


In the City of Night

by vmprsm



Series: Comes With the Territory [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Hybrid!Hux, M/M, Oral Sex, Slow Burn, UA, handjobs, original NPCs - Freeform, original worldbuilding, post-TFA, space fashion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 09:17:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6950260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vmprsm/pseuds/vmprsm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 1 of Comes With the Territory.<br/>Going home was the last thing Hux wanted to do, especially after the horridly embarrassing death of Starkiller Base. Unfortunately, he was the only person in the First Order with high enough rank and familiarity with the aristocracy to go. There was trouble brewing on Arkis, and they needed the planet’s wealth of cutting-edge technology and scientific advancement, even if the inhabitants themselves were...difficult. What he didn’t understand was why Kylo Ren needed to go. He learns very quickly, when an unexpected rebellion flares up on the little planet, and he and Kylo Ren are suddenly forced to work very closely if they want to live to return to the Order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

The ship shuddered through hyperspace, exhibiting a low-level vibration that was really beginning to become a nuisance.

 General Hux braced himself against the wiring tube that jutted out from the wall, using the flat top as a counter and leaned forward again, pulling the brush carefully through his lashes. It had been a long, long time since he had put on mascara, and it was still just as irritating. He blinked rapidly and tilted his head up, willing the liquid to solidify faster. It tugged against the corner of his eye and he scoffed angrily, leaning back in to glare at the mirror, trying to see where it had clumped and stuck to his skin. Clear mascara was even worse than the regular variety, more a mixture of nail polish and glue than anything else.

 The droid that was supposed to be assisting him wheeled around him on four small rollers, tugging with what seemed to be wild abandon at his robes in what seemed to be an attempt to straighten them out. It tugged a sleeve, and Hux’s arm jerked away from his eye, yanking a couple of eyelashes with it. He cursed, and tried to blink away watering eyes before they ruined his liner as he turned his glare to the droid.

 “Do you _mind?_ ”

 _"M_ _y_ _apologies, Sir.”_ The droid chirped in a language that was certainly not Basic or Astromech. Hux bared his teeth at the metal creature. “Now? Really? We have another two hours before landing.”

 “Apologies, Sir.” said the droid again, thankfully in Basic this time, “I was told it would be important for you to refamiliarize yourself.”

 Hux rolled his eyes and turned back to the mirror. “I’ll be fine.” Speaking your first language was like riding a speeder. It all came back to you once you started. He just didn’t want to do it yet, not with all the other reminders of his heritage piling on him like a snow drift. Oh great, snow drift, yes, let’s think of snow. He berated himself but it was too late to stop his mind.

 The loss of Starkiller Base had been hard, harder than Hux had imagined it would be. Though the superweapon had been his brainchild, he hadn’t expected to get so attached to it. Even during construction, he had spent much of his time on the _Finalizer_ , and only in the final months of building did he move onto the planet. He had barely had time to see all of the massive machine, before it had imploded and taken the majority of Hux’s dreams of glory away. He still had the success of firing against the Hosnian system, yes. But the morale of the First Order had been crippled under the singular yet huge victory of the Resistance, and in the following months it had been a hand-over-hand, brutal crawl back to order and control. Hux had had no time to mourn the loss of his biggest and most brilliant project, running to the beckoning of the Supreme Leader and scrambling to assess other losses and assure their benefactors of their continued strength to push towards galactic domination.

 Just last week, it had all finally come crashing down on him. A TIE pilot that had managed to survive the firefight during the attack had died of complications after months of struggle, and while collecting his belongings, an officer had come across recorded footage of the death of Starkiller from his assigned TIE. Hux watched, from beginning to end, made himself sit still and watch as the planet’s oscillator had exploded, watched cracks ripple out from it and cut deep into the ground, expanding and exposing the molten interior. Watched, shoving down a wave of nausea, the base’s center of operations split down the middle, a visual representation of Hux’s insides that day, as he realized that Starkiller Base was not going to keep together. The planet pulled in on itself, glowing brighter as the magma engulfed with the snow. Hux, the exact feeling of his heart as he ran to the holochamber. Finally, after twenty agonizing minutes of video feed, it pulled into a point, shrinking in actuality and in perspective as the TIE fighter flew away from the dying plant. The last thirty seconds was of an almost blinding flash, as the planet truly imploded and morphed into a new star.

 The General had shut himself in his quarters for a whole day following the viewing, as if the video was a funeral and he was observing mourning, the trip to his quarters the wake, the black of his sheets his funeral attire. He slept on and off, the video replaying over and over in his mind’s eye, and tried very hard to think of nothing at all.

 He came back to himself, staring into the mirror, the mascara loose in his hand. He shook off the lingering feelings of loss and quiet desperation, and applied the makeup to his lower lashes with great care. Starkiller was gone, he had accepted that, and he had a job to do now, one of lesser but still great importance. The fact he was the only one who could do it was slightly bolstering, but only in an offhand way. Sighing in frustration, he closed the tube and tossed it back at the droid. “Take this and bring the color powders.”

 “Yes, Sir.”

 ---

 “You are not leaving this ship dressed like that.”

 Hux stood in front of the shuttle doors, arms crossed and with a stern look on his face. Nevermind that the doors could be opened from the pilot's seat as well as the door panel. It was the principle of it. Hux was prepared to physically bar Kylo Ren from leaving the ship.

 “They're waiting for us.” replied Ren, his voice unreadable through the vocoder.

 “I am fully aware, and they will keep waiting. You are not leaving, nor am I, with you dressed in that ridiculous getup.”

 “This is what I always wear.”

 “Yes, and it's abysmal. The singed cape, that beat up helmet--no. Did you bring anything else?”

 “Underclothes.”

 Hux put a hand to his temple. “Lord Ren. I understand that the Knights have a...commonality in clothing style. I understand it is important. However, you are not acting as a Knight during this mission. You are an emissary of the Supreme Leader, and my protection, however much I need the assistance of neither.”

Ren stood still, waiting. He didn't get it. 

“Therefore,” sighed Hux, feeling more like he was talking to a child than a powerful Force user, “you must adhere to the culture when trying to negotiate terms of allegiance and trade. If you walk out wearing that, you will insult them. Making this trip much more difficult and lengthened than it should be.”

“Mhm.” was the reply. There was no way that he wasn't being difficult on purpose. It was true that Hux couldn't really blame him for being reluctant, but obstinate was simply unfair. It wasn't as if he wanted to be dressed like a damn New Republic supermodel, but here he was. 

He was dressed in the height of galactic fashion, in styles that only the nobility or aristocracy wore. Truly, Hux’s rank in the First Order military was almost unimportant here, and he was representing himself as the hand chosen of the Supreme Leader, and as a high class citizen of the planet. He didn't feel qualified for the last, but blood was important to the people of Arkis. Especially those on the council.

“We have to go. Change immediately.”

“Into what, General?”

Hux sighed through his nose, the deep breath stretching the thin, leathery fabric across his shoulders. “Hopeless. You are hopeless. Come here.”

To his surprise the broad man did, taking two long strides down the walkway to stand only a few feet away. The droid rolled around like a dog at his legs and he said briskly without looking, “Go get the silver latch case from my effects.” The droid beeped and rolled off into the next room. 

“Take that off.” he demanded, gesturing to the helmet. Oh stars, he was already falling into old habits, but it would help in integrating. Being in stiff military stances would only make him stick out. 

The Knight didn't move. Hux narrowed his eyes, feeling his makeup-thickened lashes come together. “Do you need assistance?” This helmet was slightly different from the last, lost on Starkiller Base, with more angular silver lining and less flaring in the back but somehow still worn-looking, and he wasn't sure he could follow up on the threat. The release triggers may have moved, he hadn't yet seen Ren take it off. He'd barely seen him at all. He hadn't questioned the Supreme Leader's decision in sending them together, but it was only a matter of time before he asked why the Lord was here and not ‘training’. Either way the whole concept was ridiculous. He didn't need an escort or a bodyguard. 

He glared the other man down, for once slightly taller in his heeled boots, and after a minute Ren brought his hands up, unlatched the helmet, and slowly pulled it away.

The scar wasn't terrible, given the circumstances. The medics had done honestly brilliant work during their initial retreat from Starkiller, and they had gotten him into a bacta tank as soon as they had landed on the _Finalizer_ after a short round of surgery. After eight months it was still a bit shiny, but he hadn't needed a skin graft and was only about an inch thick at the widest, down where it connected to his jawline. It quickly tapered to nothing just above the corner of his eye, crossing thinly over his nose. With a little makeup it would even be flattering.

“Staring doesn't seem to make me any more prepared to leave.” said Ren, his real voice softer than through the helmet but just as irritating. Hux came back to himself, not realizing he had been staring.

“Simply assessing how much damage control I have to do.” he shot back, and shook back his sleeves. “Right. Take that thing off too, it is actually burnt on the back edges, and unhemmed everywhere else. Did you make it yourself? Gracious.” He tutted and started circling Ren, and tugged at the cape when he made no move to remove it.

“Don't make me take it off. I’ll tear the damn thing to shreds, although you've done a fine job of it already.” With a scowl, Ren pulled the offending garment over his head and tossed it into one of the bucket seats bolted to the wall.

After several minutes of Hux tutting and Ren shuffling around clothes reluctantly, Hux stepped back. Ren had pulled off his outer robe as well, but put the belt back on over his pleated inner tunic. He re-tucked his pants into his boots. He had removed his gloves on Hux’s stubborn insistence. “Not showing your hands is rude here.”

“Why?”

“You'll see,” muttered Hux, and it wasn't obvious whether he was avoiding the question or truly distracted by critically looking over his traveling companion. “Not much else we can do about your clothes, unfortunately. At least they're clean.” He did one last loop around, his gauzy cape fluttering behind him. Compared to Hux, Ren would look like a trained ape. Hux’s dark grey tunic was immaculately cut with half sleeves that hung down at the elbows. The tunic went to a point in the front, holding so closely to his hips that it appeared seamless with his almost black lower robe. The robe covered his feet, and only when he walked with speed could you see the pointed tips of his shined black boots. Black leather cut into crisscrossing straps draped over his shoulders and upper chest and up his neck. Matching belts wrapped his waist and biceps. From his wrists dangled thin black metal bracelets that clinked softly as he fiddled with Ren’s robes. The same metal made a circlet on his forehead, set with a teardrop cut diamond in the center. His outfit was very muted, made flashy only by his cape. It didn't fall over his shoulders, attaching somewhere on the back of his neck, and rose in a spiked fin halfway up the back of his head. The cape dragged the ground in a spiked cut a few inches behind him, shining with what looked like miniature rhinestones. For all Ren knew, they could be diamonds as well.

That wasn't all. The biggest shock was Hux’s face. He was done up so carefully to make it seem almost natural to look so unearthly. Around his eyes was a smoky powder, coming in at the corners to cat-eye very slightly. The smoke made his eyelashes practically glow in their natural orange hue. His bone structure was sharpened by foundation in the places it counted, and softened in others to give his face a somewhat more sharp and arched look. The kohl on his lower eyeline made his already piercing eyes brighter. And his mouth…

“Do you have lipstick on?” asked Ren, unable to hide his incredulity.

Hux stopped again in front of him, arching an eyebrow and pursing the lips in question, which had a smoky reddened hue. “It isn't lipstick. I have a liner and water resistant gloss, nothing more. You could use some.”

Ren scoffed. “No. You are not putting any of that on me.”

Eyebrow firmly in position, Hux eyed him. “You would look foolish anyways. You're too...big.” Before Ren could say anything else, the droid rolled back in. “Finally, did you get lost?” Hux held out his hand for the case and the droid placed it with one careful manipulator.

He snapped it open one handed, and pulled out a sturdy metal comb. “Brush your hair.” He held it out.

“I brushed it this morning.”

“Brush it _again_.” Hux bit back the temptation to call him a child, though he was certainly acting like one. Did he not understand the concept of helmet hair?

Continuing the theme of their interaction, Ren took the item with reluctance and combed his hair. When it snagged once or twice, Hux allowed himself a little smirk. He fiddled in the case, pulling out a simple silver clip, adorned in the center with the smallest diamond. Ren motioned to hand back the comb, but Hux ignored it, instead handing the case back to the droid who held it dutifully. He then reached out for Ren’s head.

The dark man pulled his head away, his hair now fluffier and swaying with the motion. “What are you doing?”

“Tying back your hair. You can't leave it in that mane, it's undignified and my gel is among other belongings. Now shut up and stop moving, any minute now they’ll start knocking.”

Ren glared at him but acquiesced, leaning his head back in. Hux didn't know what the Supreme Leader said to Ren before this mission, but it must have been something important to make him so relatively agreeable. Hux separated the sections of hair in front of Ren's ears, braiding them back tightly with practiced fingers. He then circled around, pulling them together and clipping them to the rest of his hair in the back. He pulled the loose hair gently down, flattening it under the braids. It wasn't perfect, Ren's hair seemed to be cut with wild yet stylish abandon, and some parts on top were layered short enough to not sit flat. But it had gone uncut since Starkiller, no longer brushing his shoulders but sitting on them.

“Better. For now.”

“Are you finished?”

“Almost.” He came back around and rummaged again in the case. He pulled out a small snap case, rounded and squat. Ren couldn't help but tilt his head around a bit to try and see inside. It was a tanish powdery looking substance, and as Hux patted a sponge into it his eyes widened in realization.

“No. I said none of that.”

“We were talking lipstick.” replied Hux dismissively. “This is compact powder. I'm only going to soften your scar, it's still quite ghastly.”

“I was talking all of it. My face is fine. If they don’t like it they can talk to my lightsaber.”

Hux’s mouth twitched down briefly, and he shut the powder with a click. “Fine. But you know, Lord Ren, I enjoy this as little as you. I am simply able to set aside my personal feelings in favor of improving our standing with our fellow diplomats.”

“ _You_ can be a diplomat.”

Hux didn’t respond, putting the powder back in the case and shooing the droid away. He straightened, tugging down his tunic and running a quick hand over his perfectly styled hair. “Let’s get this over with.”

\---

They stepped off the ship to a small but respectable welcoming party, a given the small population of the planet. According to the most recent census, the population across all ten Arkis cities, the only liveable places on the planet, was only eight million. The capital city they had landed in, Nyx, held a whopping one-eighth of that number, one million. Other than that, the most Hux could find about the planet was some environmental data. It wasn't shocking, those with Arkanian blood were naturally wary and secretive, and the planet had only been colonized seventy or so galactic years ago. The ship behind them glinted in the weak sunlight filtering through gray loose clouds. The Theta-class shuttle had been purposefully refitted for their use, turning a storage room into a makeshift bunk room and removing some of the bucket seats to make room for luggage carriers. The ship was fairly new, but it now sported a fresh coat of black paint with the First Order symbol proudly marked in red on the wings and body of the vessel. It was a modest machine, nothing like the pleasure cruisers of the Empire, but it looked clean and elegant. It was a delicate balance between elegant and minimalist, and Hux was going to walk it very precisely during this trip.

The city stretched out in all directions around them, Hux estimated it to be thirty square miles all told. The glittering buildings were a gorgeous feat of architecture, with walls of rhomboid windows wrapped by dark grey metals. Most of the city was skyscrapers and other tall buildings that could rival Coruscant’s in their majesty, consisting primarily of spires and other sharply pointed shapes. From their landing pad atop a building of about fifty stories, they could see the roads below, black and without curves. On the ground level the streets were lined with tall lamps, letting off a white glow that turned the nearby building surfaces into an explosion of glitter.

Hux greeted the welcoming party, making quick work of the ten or so assembled, mentally marking down names and titles and faces into neat little files. They were mostly assistants of council members, and they each apologized for the lack of the council members themselves. Hux was gracious and softly spoken, settling neatly into the facade of gentility that the people always wore here. It was easy, like riding a speeder.

Two of the council members were present however, and they waited in the back of the group. It was simple to tell the apart from the assistants. They wore a much higher number of gemstones and the fabric of their robes was higher quality. Hux reached them last, holding out welcoming hands to shake with a “Morning Bright, thank you for coming to meet us.”

“Morning Bright,” replied the one to the left, an angular thin man of equal height to Hux. His beard was tightly trimmed, and greying on his face. It was unseemly to be a man under age fifty with a beard, but social rules became more lax with advanced age, to where very short beards were acceptable. When Hux was a child, it was almost a symbol of status to keep a beard, and generally only council members or galactic business owners did. Luckily for him, this man was both. He introduced himself as a council member in the Export Business sector and the owner of one of very few micro-carat diamond companies. Hux knew that if any sector of the Arkian council could be said to have more weight than the others, it was export. Arkians thrived on export trade, it was what kept them disgustingly wealthy. This man was involved with the First Order already, for the past several years he had been supplying the valuable gems to make diamond-edged tools, the hardest natural blade in the galaxy. The name came to him easily, silly as it was. Many Arkians made their own family names when they started over. “Mikael Starson, Sir, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, General.” Mikael seemed unimpressed that Hux had recalled his name, as if it was only natural. He stepped back without another word and let the other council member introduce themself, a surprisingly young woman with hair pulled up in elaborate crisscrossing french braids that did little to flatter her thin straight hair. It was long and platinum blonde, and the last foot or so spilled from the back of her head like a waterfall and was draped with a lace net of diamonds.

“I am Analia Infaret, I sit in the Urban Expansion sector. I’m here on behalf of my mother, Andralia.”

“In the Cybernetics sector, yes.” replied Hux, taking her hands in greeting.

“Who is this behind you?” asked Analia, peering over Hux’s shoulder. He had almost forgotten Ren entirely, and the reminder put a bit of a damper on his light attitude. He stepped to the side, presenting Ren. “Lord Kylo Ren, master of the Knights of Ren. He is acting as a more direct ambassador of our Supreme Leader, here to observe the proceedings.”

The woman did not make a move to greet Ren, and he did the same. He managed to look down his nose at her, despite her impressive height of what was probably six feet. She met his eyes only briefly, and looked away. Hux wasn’t shocked, when Ren was in control of his face it was nearly as intimidating as his mask.

“Sir Hux,” One of the assistants spoke up, breaking the silence that was threatening to become awkward. “it is quite cold out here. We would be happy to lead you to dinner, it begins in only fifteen minutes.”

Hux clenched his jaw, then forced it to relax, a knee-jerk reaction to being called ‘Sir’. “Of course, thank you.” They crossed the skybridge and headed inside, Ren trailing at the back.

\---

The dinner was modest, held in a small banquet hall with sixty or so people, given the strange hour of their arrival that was to be expected. Only about half were council members, a small percent of the exact one thousand bodies on the council. Dinner had just finished, a three course meal consisting of handheld pie slices, filled with a well-cooked puree of vegetables, an orange semi-sweet soup with a dark brown bread, and a pulled meat identified as an animal that Hux hadn’t heard of, supposedly imported. It tasted fine, either way.

Any respectable dinner party on Arkis was followed by a reception, where the reason for the event, usually a person or occurrence, was not specifically stated but somewhat paraded about nonetheless. In the last hour Hux and Ren had talked to at least thirty of the guests, with varying degrees of pleasantness from each. Well, Hux had talked, Kylo had stood at his side and glowered. He had taken well to the dinner, it seemed, only scoffing lightly at the lack of utensils other than spoons. Hux had needed to elbow him a few times during the reception, a prompting for him to introduce himself to those that were apparently too dim to ignore the dark man in favor of Hux’s cultured conversation. His greeting had always been a short “Lord Ren.” He did not offer his hands, keeping them firmly at his sides. Some Arkians had looked affronted, which Hux quickly smoothed over; some looked validated, as if they knew the clearly human man would act in such a way. These people were usually the most difficult overall, with Hux having to field questions about his companion’s and his own intelligence, not to mention of competence of the First Order, in ways that had him struggling to stay polite.

He was currently talking to a woman who had more gemstones on her dress than she had brain cells in her head, who seemed deeply insulted by the vibrancy of his hair, if how she kept looking at it was any indication. Kylo was glaring at her as she glared at Hux’s hair, and while he was somewhat gratified by the Lord’s guard dog impression, it wasn’t going to make things any easier. It was apparent this woman had a problem with his bloodline, so he attempted to subtly remind her of what she would receive as the more positive elements of it. Their little party was flanked by two men, both quiet as statues, who seemed to be here because of the woman, and uninterested in conversation as much as Ren was.

“Ms. Gadari,” it was very rude to mention a person’s married status and politeness dictated you always went with unmarried, and he didn’t know it anyways although she was somewhere between the ages of thirty-five and forty-five, “let me assure you that the First Order is very interested in the continued trade of goods between us and the Outer Rim planets as a whole. Development of these areas will be one of the first things focused on after we gain control over the Core Worlds. We prefer the idea of a pincer formation when bringing things into order, or else chaos will simply flee outwards.” He lifted his hands to bring them together in a visual representation of his words. It was unnecessary, but it had the desired effect. Her eyes dropped from his hair to his hands, and she now looked uncertain.

Unfortunately, it also had an unintended side effect. Ren’s eyes dropped when the woman’s did. They widened, and he snatched Hux’s right hand by the wrist, holding it in place. Hux had taken off his gloves directly before dinner, and had meant to replace them, but thought better of it when he saw the daunting task before him of swaying the collected group to his favor.

Ren said nothing, simply looking at Hux’s hand. The three fingers on his hand were slim, his nails a pale pink that indicated their surprising thickness. They were spaced evenly off the end of his hand, also a slim thing that connected delicately to his wrist. His thumb was normally placed. All in all, it didn’t look like Hux was missing a finger, he looked as if he wasn’t meant to have a pinky.

After several seconds, Hux curled in his fingers, blocking them from view. He yanked gently, and Ren let go. The woman looked scandalized. “Excuse Lord Ren. He has an instinctive nature that is highly valuable in the field but less so otherwise.” The put-down was light, but it was enough to spark the woman’s eyes in a way that he knew the rudeness of the gesture was forgiven. If anyone had grabbed her, well, that would have been another story. He stole a glance at Ren, who had moved back into his tight stance, feet slightly apart, and was pointedly looking away. He said and did nothing else except follow Hux like a ghost for the remainder of the reception.

 

\---

When the reception ended, they were directed to a near-ground hovercar. They would be staying in a hotel near the center of Nyx, one of the few hotels on Arkis. It wasn't exactly a welcoming place for visitors, but royalty and other wealthy people sometimes found Arkis to be a destination for fashion shopping, if they could get a planetary visa. The glittering city gave the feel of a futuristic utopia sprung up overnight. In a way, it had.

As the hovercar flew down the streets, making sharp turns that were almost imperceptible from inside, Hux watched the city whip by. Storefronts, offices, and apartment complexes were separated by slim alleys, hard to see in the dimming light. The buildings entrances were almost identical, only prominently placed signage gave their functions away. He sighed, propping his elbow on the armrest and perching his chin on the back of his hand. It had been so long since he had seen the geometric majesty of Nyx that he felt a sense of nostalgia that was disconnected from his current sense of self. He felt it through a lens, as if hearing a story that meant something to someone else. He let his eyes attempt to read the signs to block out other thought, and as he watched the streetlights came on brighter, casting a harsh white glow onto everything. Through the tinted window, the light barely reached him, but made his cape glitter dully as it lay spread out on the seat between him and Ren.

He let his eyes track from his cape to Ren, who had his body almost fully turned towards the window. His hulking form was like the personification of death, black and foreboding, too large to look like it fit in anywhere. Ren had always been too big for himself, straining against his limitations. The clip at the back of his head was such an incongruity that Hux was amused despite himself, forcing his stern expression soften. It matched well with the lightsaber clipped on his waist, two spots of silvery color on his shadowy person. He was startled to hear Ren address him, not turning.

“How long will we be here.”

“However long it takes.” replied Hux.

Silence reigned for the rest of the trip.


	2. Chapter 2

They were settled into a full-floor suite that strove to exemplify all the glory of Nyx by placing large windows at the north and south to lord over the city below and across from an obscenely high eighty stories. The ride up in the ultra-express elevator had given Hux a violent sense of vertigo, worse than when he’d first gone into hyperspace. There was something to be said about that, but he was too tired to bother organizing the words. As they stepped in, a bellhop followed behind, pushing one luggage rack ahead and dragging another behind, teetering dangerously with cases and dress bags. Hux turned sharply, almost startling the poor boy into jerking one of the racks over, and said “Leave them here, I’ll unload them.”

The boy knew better than to argue. “Yes sir, just call when you want them removed.” He moved with haste back into to the elevator. Ren pushed past Hux and into the room, a small sitting area with a deep, high-backed couch that curved around into a semi circle, facing a mounted holoscreen television, and a black caf table that had corners sharp enough to double as a torture device. The walls were plain, but the grey color was pleasantly light when contrasted with the dark furniture. Hux took his last few moments in his shoes to walk the place, finding a bathroom offshooting from the sitting room, a modest kitchen (though Arkians rarely cooked for themselves), and the entryways to two bedrooms. The only solid doors were to the bathroom and the entrance, the others being covered with flowing, delicate curtains. 

“What is this?” came the knight’s incredulous voice from one of the bedrooms.

Ignoring him, Hux moved into the other bedroom, and came promptly upon the source of the problem. There was a large square opening between the two rooms, with a curtain that left little to the imagination in terms of its opaqueness. He sighed, seeing the outline of Ren on the other side. “Of course.”

“Of course what.”

“This is common practice. Partners often sleep in different rooms, to accommodate for varied sleep schedules, but the partition allows for the illusion of closeness.” Hux crossed his arms, bracelets making chime sounds as they moved. 

“We aren't partners.”

“Assuredly not,” sneered Hux, watching Ren’s still form through the insubstantial barrier, “but this is what we have. The other rooms will be the same way. We could always request to move you into a private room.”

“Don't bother.” replied Ren quickly. “This will do well enough.” 

“As you say,  _ my Lord _ .” Hux injected as much sarcasm as he could into the statement. After struggling off his wretched shoes and cape, he swept out of the room to begin unloading, leaving Ren to his supposed moping.

\---

Despite the hour, Hux had not yet slept. They had reached Arkis at the Hour 13 in their 32 hour cycle, and although he was exhausted from even three hours among Arkians, it was now Hour 19, halfway through the midday rest cycle. He had taken some time to look out the huge diamond-shaped window on the far end of his room, glimpsing the frigid wasteland outside of the city, the horizon obscured by swirling snowstorms often hundreds of miles long. The other cities of Arkis were far out of sightline, spread across the planet at economically strategic locations. Each was a beacon of sharp light amongst a mass of white. Eventually, staring at nothing had bored him, and he returned to the bed, a ridiculously oversized and tall affair with dark sheets and far too many pillows. Looking at snowstorms had nothing on looking upon the vastness of space, something he had done often while on the bridge. Lately he had partaken in the pastime less, opting to focus on the next plan, the next step forward. When he looked into space now, he sometimes fooled himself into thinking he could see Starkiller, a white dot in the black expanse.

A very slight noise had his ears perked, and he identified the sounds of padding feet and a shift of fabric. He looked up from under his eyebrows for only a second, enough to confirm his suspicion. 

Ren stood in the open partition between their rooms, arms crossed loosely over his chest, clothed now in a simple black tunic and baggy trousers that brushed the floor. He watched Hux, who very pointedly did not look at him, instead staring at the datapad in his fingers. There wasn't anything important on it that he hadn't already read, but he was still miffed at Ren for his earlier behavior and would rather avoid a confrontation. Before the death of Starkiller, he would have been raring for a fight with the apprentice, but now...well, he had more important things. 

“Why did you let them treat you that way.” asked Ren, vaguely curious. They had left his helmet on the ship which had since been sent to the hotel’s hangar, and this way it was much easier for Hux to read his voice, after having a plethora of practice through the metal barrier. 

“That’s how it works here.” replied Hux, eyes still glued to the pad. 

“What does that mean?” Ren stepped fully into the room, letting the curtain fall back into place. 

Hux’s eyes flicked up briefly. “You do realize it's rude to come into someone else's room uninvited.”

“There's no door.” said Ren, shrugging up one shoulder. Hux knew he was being a smart-aleck on purpose, it was classically shown to put him on edge. Not tonight.

“It means that the people of Arkis are extremely wary of newcomers, for a variety of reasons. One is that they believe everyone to be less intelligent, and not worthy. Especially if those newcomers want something, as we do. Secondly, we want something that is of utmost importance to Arkians: trade. This mission would be nearly impossible if not for two things, the presence of a native as a negotiator, and a pre-existing business relationship with the First Order.” He glossed over part of his explanation quickly, but he knew that Ren would catch it.

“Native?”

Hux sighed, putting down the pad. He had wanted to avoid this whole thing, but knew that here would be much better than at an event in the future. The more Ren understood, hopefully, the less likely he was the screw it up. It was a show of cowardice that he'd tried to avoid it in the first place.

“Yes, Ren. I was born here.”

Ren gave him a look like a shuttle in enemy floodlights, brown eyes looking almost gold in the lamplight. 

“Do you know anything about this planet?” asked Hux.

“Why should I know anything?” retorted Ren defensively. Hux resisted the urge to chuck the datapad at him, he couldn't get a replacement. 

“Because you're here, you absolute,” he cut himself off. Ren may have seemed calmer since returning from Snoke, but there was nothing to say what would set him off. Bruising was hard to cover with makeup, and death even more so. “Arkians are a purposeful offshoot of Arkanians. You've heard of them, yes?” Ren nodded once. “They colonized this planet to remove themselves from the shadow of Arkanian supremacy, as they were hybrids and couldn't hope to ever measure up to Arkanian standards. Arkians are somewhat more agreeable to species other than themselves, and have all the same economic and scientific interests as the Arkanians: cybernetics, gem mining, medical science, among others. However, they are still extremely proud, and have their own social rules that require special consideration when trying to negotiate. Being an Arkanian Offshoot and Arkian citizen myself, they are much more likely to accept me. Not to mention, though you seem to like to forget, I  _ am _ a General.” 

“That explains why you looked so natural.” mumbled Ren, looking down at his own arms.

Hux sat up sharply from the pile of pillows he’d stacked behind him, feet bracing against the bed as his knees bent. He knew it looked indulgent and silly, but his back ached from wearing heels for the first time in many years. “Do not confuse me for one of them, Ren. I am Arkian in physical features only. I understand Arkian culture, but that does not mean I enjoy it.” 

“You're right. You could have talked circles around any one of those people tonight. You are above them.” 

Hux blinked. Was that….a compliment? Hux had clawed for several years to get any sort of respect from the mysterious and infuriating Kylo Ren, and here he has now, handing it out. He put the thought aside, there was much he didn't understand about Ren, especially now that they hadn't seen each other in months. “I could have,” he agreed, settling back again, “but that isn't the point. I need to look competent and proud, but not as if I think I am better. I need to be unique but conformist. And so do you.”

“What?”

Hux laughed once under his breath. “You don't honestly think I will let you wear your Knight robes the whole time we’re here?”

“I have nothing else.” The defensive tone was back. 

“That doesn't matter. We have the day tomorrow, to ‘acclimate’, and the council meeting isn't for two days. We are in the largest city on Arkis, I'm sure we can buy you enough to wear until we leave.”

Ren dropped his arms, his defensive tone now at odds with his aggressive posture. “I am not wearing any of that ridiculous girly crap you had on.”

“Ren, you understand so little. I'm mildly offended you think of clothing as gendered in the first place, but nonetheless, clothing here is very high class and ornamented. No matter your gender. That said,” he put up a hand as Ren took a step further into the room, “guards on Arkis dress somewhat differently. Color schemes are similar, but styles are tailored to allow for movement without being in the way. They do have trousers. You won't have to wear any of my ‘girly crap’.” 

Ren diffused slightly, his shoulders dropping. There was silence for a long minute, the room entirely still. “Fine.” he said, before turning and disappearing behind the curtain to his own room. 

\---

It had taken several hours to get the surly Force user to leave the hotel, despite his prior agreement. In the first place, he had clearly slept as little as Hux had, but opted to do it almost perfectly timed with the ending of the sleep cycle, and into the next couple hours. He woke up at Hour 24, after Hux had gotten tired of being nicely dressed and waiting, and had chucked a hairbrush impressively through the curtain and square onto Ren’s back. 

In retrospect, it had not been his most well thought out tactic, bringing Ren to wakefulness already in a bad mood. The next hour had been Ren angrily stomping about the room, shutting himself in the bathroom for an extended period of time, stomping some more, and finally emerging in what Hux could swear was the same robes from yesterday and looking entirely unkempt.

Hux clenched his jaw, feeling it begin to ache for how often he’d been doing it recently. It was fine, they only had a few more hours before Ren would dress appropriately.

He walked into the kitchen as Ren went to his room once again, pulling a red apple from the pre-stocked fridge. Fruit was a luxury on Arkis, having such a short shelf life, but apples were most common due to their durability. He set it into a tidy little machine that cut and cored it for him, listening for the sounds of anything distressing in Ren’s direction. Half the apple eaten later, it was still quiet. 

“Ren,” he called irritably, “come out here, we need to go. We have a meeting at Hour 29 and it's already almost 25.” 

There was a pause, then shuffling steps as Kylo Ren came back out. A black cowl obscured most of his face. How the  _ kriff _ had he gotten than damn thing off the ship yesterday? After a double take, he realized it wasn’t the same cape, but rather very similar. It wasn’t the high quality gaberwool that Ren had unceremoniously destroyed through several fights, but a fabric that looked almost like velvet. The hood was equally as large, but the cape cascaded down almost to his feet and was wide enough he could drop the shoulders over and obscure his front, which he did while Hux watched. He became a shadow, but surprisingly he looked put together. Well, at least it covered his hair.

They left with little delay, Hux leading the way to the underground carport to get a cab called. 

\---

The first shop they visited they were thrown out of, as Ren didn’t seem to think it was rude to Force-push away the attendant who was simply trying to get his measurements. It would have been alright if he hadn’t A) pushed her into a clothing rack that went tumbling, throwing very expensive fabric and the woman to the ground, and B) refused to apologize. Hux had tried for him, but the damage was done. It didn't help that the woman had never experienced the Force, and was deeply spooked. Hux dragged Kylo out by the edges of his cape, before the woman had a chance to get noisy and bring whatever form of law enforcement Arkis had now upon them. 

Their next store choice was going better, after Hux had a stern talk with Ren in the cab. It was unfortunately more expensive, but the attendants were more respectful of personal space and stormy looking men. 

Hux lounged in a settee against the wall, with a diagonal view of the fitting rooms. Hux had buzzed about when they entered, pointing out pieces as a harried young man followed behind and grabbed them off the racks. He went for very muted in color, sharply cut, and almost gemless patterned (though you could never get away with not wearing a gemstone  _ somewhere _ ) garments, and disregarded robes almost entirely. He did pick out a few pairs of pants with a nice short train in the back, and a couple long coats. If he could compromise by tolerating Rens presence, Ren could compromise by wearing some more classic nobility styles. He got a little daring when he picked out a few accessories and even a pair of thigh high boots, guessing at Rens size. Ren had taken it all with a sour look, but went into the extravagantly large fitting room anyways. 

It took only seconds for him to rummage through the pile and toss several items back over the door. The young man had to be given credit, he seemed to have anticipated the results and stood dutifully by the door, barely catching them out of the air before the expensive fabric could touch the floor. 

“Ren,” chided Hux, forcing his voice to be light, “try them on first.”

There was no response, but there was the sound of shuffling fabric. The General waited patiently, inspecting his manicured nails.

A muffled swear came through the door, followed by a zipping sound, and the door opened. Ren stepped out, his body language screaming ‘uncomfortable’. He tugged at the collar of the jacket around his neck, looking at Hux with the sullen expression of a puppy who had just been told he couldn't go outside. 

Hux sat up automatically, firmly pushing down the sudden clench in his chest. Ren’s hair was still a wreck, honestly more so now, but it served to make him look like a lion dressed in the ringleaders clothes. He had on a tight fitting black jacket with sleeves that partly covered his hands, much like his normal attire. The jacket had a high collar that cut up triangularly behind his ears, and had similarly shaped side tails that hugged his slim hips. It buttoned down both sides of his chest, with the fabric moving through a slit in one side to emerge out the other. The buttons were mildly large gemstones, not diamond but rather a dark series of rubies. Compared to the jacket, the rest of the outfit was mild, with plain black fitted trousers of a tightly woven wool blend and his boots. 

“You should,” Hux had to take a moment to gather his thoughts, “wear that today. Obviously try the rest on, but that doesn't need tailoring and it looks,” he paused again, trying to find the word he wanted, and Ren raised an eyebrow. How Hux itched to straighten those out. 

“Fine. A understated appearance.” 

The man in front of him didn't move. “Well, go. We don't have all day to be here.” He shooed Ren away with his hands and sat back again, fully stewing in irritation.

Outfit after outfit was stunning, but did not come without their share of difficulties. A deviation from usual events for the towering man, the trousers were never too short, given the unorthodox stature of the residents. However, the tops have a problem. Arkanians were willowy, exemplified by the General himself who was undeniably tough but thin like a switch. Their shoulders were often narrow, a rectangular chest as opposed to Ren’s triangular shape. There were several occasions where he simply couldn't put on a jacket due to either his arm’s diameter, shoulder width, or the broadness of his upper chest. Other dress shirts and vests gave less problem, often being of a stretchier material. After the fifth failure Hux sighed, motioning to the attendant. “We don't have time to get all the jackets tailored, we’ll do without.”

Ren yanked the most recently poorly fit sleeve off his arm and tossed it at the waiting attendant, his hair now deeply ruffled from pulling on so many outfits. It was an frustratingly good look on him, how could the knight look like a model with his hair gone wild? Ren shook himself, trying to feel more comfortable in the tight clothes and inadvertently fluffing his hair again. Hux looked away.

Thankfully, the woman who had been standing behind the counter until this point made her way to the ginger still sitting languidly on the small couch. The streetlamp outside the shop glowed in, highlighting his hair in a way that was unearthly and giving the diamonds in his circlet a sharp glint as he turned to look at her.

_ “Excuse me Sir, would you like me to begin ringing up your purchases? If you would also like to show me which pieces need tailoring?” _

She spoke to him in Arkian, which was really a slowly diverging dialect of Arkanian, and Hux frowned at her before he could school his features. 

_ “In a few minutes, thank you Miss. He still needs to try on several items. However if you could recommend some shoulder and forearm pieces.”  _ He paused, thinking, then looked her in the eyes again.  _ “As well, if you could bring out your largest pairs of gloves for him to try. Five fingered. No longer than mid-forearm.” _

She nodded and bowed shallowly, stepping away to search through the glove drawers on the far wall. Hux resisted the urge to open and close his mouth like he had just tasted something foul. It wasn’t that he disliked speaking his native tongue, it just made his voice sound strange. Arkian was very oddly lyrical and quiet, the flow of the sentences completely unlike Basic. It was also highly reliant on inflection to identify certain words, the turning up or down in octave of a sound often making the difference between tenses or even two entirely different words. Hux had spent many years in the military perfecting his deadpan composure, so to try and speak Arkian was practically singing in public. It was a small favor that Arkians weren’t very openly expressive. 

He turned his gaze back to Ren, who had not yet returned to the dressing room. A vest hung from his fingertips, a grey, lengthy and sharply cut item that had a slight sheen to it. Ren was looking at him openly, the expression on his face utterly indiscernible it was so mixed. Hux raised an eyebrow, and Ren spun around, hastily re-entering the little room.

While he waited, the woman came back, holding a drawer of black gloves laid out neatly in a line. Hux looked them over, rejecting the ones that were too flashy. She retreated, only to return simultaneously as Ren exited again. Hux tore his eyes away from the very nice outfit he was wearing this time to let her speak. 

_ “Sir, for the other pieces you requested, would you like something more like capes? I saw your companion enter with one-” _

_ “No,” _ he replied, cutting her off,  _ “nothing he can cover his face with. I am looking for items akin to armor. Bracers, pauldrons and the like, and if you have some waist belts those are also of interest.” _

_ “Of course Sir, might I also recommend-” _

“Stop that. Now.” Ren’s voice echoed around the shop, immediately hushing the woman. She looked at him, straightening from where she had been slightly bent over to converse with Hux where he was seated. Hux made no move to look at him. “Stop what, Lord Ren? Speaking? Breathing, perhaps?” 

“Speak Basic.” He demanded, angling his head down to glare out from under his eyebrows. Hux let out his breath in a small huff. 

_ “Can you speak Basic?” _

The woman shook her head, watching Ren’s stormy look with trepidation. 

“There,” said Hux, sitting up, “she doesn't speak Basic. Unless one is in trade, there isn't much reason to learn.”

“Does he speak it?” asked Ren, jabbing a pointed finger towards the attendant who looked shocked to be in the center of attention so abruptly, his arms laden with clothes. He shook his head urgently.

Hux raised an eyebrow, while Ren’s frown deepened. 

“ _ Ah, I mean, Sir, I don't speak basic other than to say common things like greetings and such. I couldn't possibly-” _

“Yes, yes,” Hux waved him into silence. “He doesn't either.”

“He shook his head, he understood.”

“And that's about all he understood. Ren, you'll just have to believe me.”

Ren expression darkened.

“Really, what would you like? Should I pantomime to them instead? What exactly is the problem with letting them speak their native language?”

There was a beat of silence, and then Ren turned. He stalked to the woman, who cowered in his presence. His hair fell down near his eyes as he tilted his head down, a looming figure in a silken half-cape and shimmering pants. He cut a lovely figure, that was assured, his muscular form well suited to tighter clothes and his dark hair a compliment to the grayscale of the usual Arkian color palette. Even the sharp edges of the shoulders and elbows looked good on him, a sort of replacement for the hard contours of the mask he’d been forced to leave on the ship. 

“We’re done here.” stated Ren, leaving the terrified woman alone and stalking back to the dressing room.

“We are not!” said Hux, standing from the settee, but Ren had already closed the door, and the sound of fabric moving was the only noise. If Ren didn't put that first outfit back on...Hux could not be held responsible. “Fine. “ He said to no one, then tossed his head.  _ “Whatever you’ve picked out, we will take. Show me what I asked about, I'll chose before he returns.” _ Well, those weren’t the most perfectly phrased sentences in his life, but damn it all he hadn’t spoken Arkian since he was a child. 

He picked out several pieces quickly, items he thought would go with many of the outfits Ren had already tried on, and was rung up. It was hard not to cringe at the figure. There was an allowance for this trip, however....this was a touch excessive. With a sigh he began to rummage in the small pouch on his hip. 

“How are you affording this.” Hux startled only slightly, imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t Kylo Ren. He turned his head, still rummaging.

“We have an allotted budget for political trips.”

Ren didn't reply, standing stiffly in the double-buttoned jacket. His hair was still a massive tangle, and he would look better with a touch of grey eyeliner, but it was a vast improvement. Hux would wait until they were in the cab to make an attempt on the hair.

\---

The midnight sleep cycle had been uneventful and, for the most part, unhelpful. Hux had slept barely more than twenty minutes at a time, and tossed fitfully with the lights of Nyx streaming in his window and onto the sheets of the gigantic bed. It wasn't that Hux slept much in the first place, but that was generally by choice. When he decided to get rest, he was usually out quickly and awake again a respectable five minutes before his alarm. Sometimes during the long six hours, he woke sweating and gasping as if cold air had been searing his lungs for hours, images of glowing cracked earth projected on the insides of his eyelids. Sometimes, he woke from things that were less dreams and more memories he’d rather not have. 

Other times he woke himself, tearing away from elaborate recreations of Kylo Ren in that ruby studded jacket. They had spent the remainder of their day at a few private meetings with council members, and he hadn’t been able to stop his eyes from drawing to the red glint. He had no right looking so nice, and his dreams set him again among the flashing lights and metal panels of the  _ Finalizer _ . He looked desperately out of place, with officers and stormtroopers marching past, but his surprisingly soft face was calm. Somehow, it seemed Ren wore Arkian clothes better than Hux, who  _ was _ Arkian. Just before Ren opened his mouth, likely to say something unbearably irritating, as Hux felt his heart rate spike in anticipation, he woke himself up with a shout. The first time, Ren responded.

“Do that often, General?” His voice floated through the curtain, but it was just dark enough for Hux to be unable to make out his form. 

Hux threw the covers back, slipping out of bed and stretching his bare toes against the wood floor. “It's not your concern.”

Ren chuckled, and Hux felt a twinge of something that was not quite anger. He started towards the bathroom.

“I’m not concerned,” replied Ren, still sounding amused. Hux shut the marvelously solid door with more force than necessary.

He did his business, marveling only slightly at the softness of  _ real toilet paper _ , and came back out. As he pushed aside the curtain to his room with a delicately shaped hand, Ren’s voice came rumbling through the gap between their rooms again. 

“It happens to me too, you know.”

His voice was deep, coming from somewhere dark and warm inside him, likely a space that he allowed himself to venture to very infrequently, Hux thought. He’d heard many of Ren’s voices, but this one was so rare that he stopped a step into the room to listen for more.

“You can sleep. I’ll be here.”

It was such a tender statement, edged with understanding. Hux felt almost embarrassed that what had woken him wasn't a nightmare, but instead a threateningly pleasant dream. He still somehow appreciated the sentiment. He let himself stand a few more seconds, statuesque in the grey filtered light, hand raised above to hold up the red curtain that threatened to slip away from his fingers, but no more was said. Hux padded back to the bed, letting his feet make the vulnerable noise, and tried again to sleep. When he woke throughout the cycle, gasping or heaving or yelling, Ren said nothing else.

Thankfully, his prior experience with running on little sleep and managing to get at least a few snatches that lasted a complete REM cycle left Hux awake enough to once again verbally spar with the Arkian elite who were set to tour them today. He caught himself a few times about to get  _ too _ smart with his conversational partner, edging from challenging to rude, and pulled it back in. Lack of sleep, while not detrimental to his faculties, did make him irritable.

They were taken to a car after basic introductions, which passed through the sharp streets of Nyx in mostly comfortable silence. Aside from pleasantries, businessmen and women of Arkis didn't have much to say unless they were talking trade or money. The councilmen with them today both owned substantial companies in the city, nestled directly under their feet. One man, Rhyhem Falim, with white eyes and cheeks sharper than Hux’s was in Export Business, a diamond mine that stretched almost clear across the thirty miles of Nyx, snaking up into a hundred openings that were tightly guarded. The area they were headed to was supposedly one of the richest yet found on the planet, a mine that left the city’s edge and tunneled under a worn-down mountain range that edged what was once likely a majestic sea. It was frozen now, filled with snow and permafrost, but the colliding of the two geographical features gave rise to large deposits of diamond and a few other semi-precious gems. Hux was keen on getting into the favor of this man, he was one of the plausible roadblocks to their success. It would be easier if he knew exactly what the  _ road  _ of their issues looked like. 

The other man, Lavk Solair, was in Urban Management, a sector that Hux knew little about. Apparently it was lucrative, given the diamond jewelry dripping from the man’s purple-tinted ears and fingers. He was clearly part Sephi but strongly Arkanian in the hair and face, a fact that likely made it easier to gain such a high position. He owned all the mining furnaces in the city, and therefore almost directly controlled all the heating that kept the inhabitants from freezing to death. While heat would be produced no matter what and would always heat the city, it was optional how much control citizens could have over it in their buildings, paying to have vents and air controllers installed and maintained. The con was brilliant in a way that made Hux a little envious. 

They reached the edge of the city, pulling to a stop outside a surprisingly squat building that looked to have nothing in the way of guards. As they exited, Hux could see the shimmer of a forcefield around it. It was barely visible in the dim light, the bulbous streetlamps having stopped a couple blocks back. He wasn't surprised to see them using a sophisticated level of technology such as it, but if the wars of the past century had anything to teach, it was not to put your faith in technology for protection. 

Ren was again acting as a ghost, blending with the murky twilight easily in a dark blue high collared shirt with loose sleeves and an artful string of small diamonds down each side of his chest. His black pants had a darker blue sheer fabric around them like a skirt open in the front, the material like organza but more stiff. His lower waist was held in a black wide belt, similar to his regular style but coming up to a point at the center. To the surprise of no one, he had fastened his saber hook onto it and the large hilt was nestled close. Hux had failed in his attempt to tame Ren’s hair with braids or clips or  _ anything _ , being pushed away with childish Force-hands until he gave up, but Ren had shown the decency to brush it to a shine, its natural waves sweeping back off his forehead and down his neck, curling under his ears. Ren really could use a haircut, said Hux’s military demeanor, but he seemed to have a face that could look good in any hair length, and the dark strands that outlined his ears flattered them more than drew attention. He looked...nice, and that was irritating. Hux swept off, not concerned if Ren trailed behind them or not.

Coming through the forcefield, which had a man-sized hole flickered into it from some device on Falim’s body, they approached the entrance with little delay. Hux took one look back at the horizon and blurry sky, unbroken by dark skyscrapers, and felt a small creep of trepidation. He shook it off, and glanced at Ren. He was also looking at the sky, his brow pulled down over his dark eyes. 

Hux’s earlier disapproval was modified, seeing the pair of heavily armed sentient guards at the entrance to the elevator. It was an elegant elevator, clearly not for the workers, and as it rocketed them down into the true darkness of the planet’s crust Hux tried not to feel anxious. He had spent a majority of his life in the thin hallways of spaceships, but the underground...that was different. 

The doors opened, and he let out a sigh of relief. The hall was a blend of technology and nature, the rough stone of kimberlite almost seamless with dark metal tubing and control panels. The hall was more of a ovular antechamber that split off in two directions, one that had a sign stretched across it. It read in both Arkian and Basic: Protective Equipment Beyond This Point.

“I'm assuming you won't want to sully that hair of yours with a hardhat?” asked Falim. 

Hux let the assumed insult roll off him. “The civilian side is fine, thank you.”

“Then right this way, Sir.”

They began down the hallway to the right, and the guard nodded to them as they passed. Once they were a couple hundred meters along, the floor angling at a not uncomfortable but apparent slope down, Falim began to speak. His deep voice bounced off the cave walls, which became less mechanically imbued as they moved away from the entrance. 

“This mine was one of the first started on Arkis, about sixty galactic years ago. My father owned it then, though he was already into venerable age and the business soon passed to me. The mine produces about one hundred sixty thousand karats of diamond in an Arkian week, at an average of ten million per standard galactic year, an average that has remained steady. 

“Besides diamond, the mine also reveals cape ruby and cape emerald, and other lesser minerals. We sell all of these as a side venture to various jewelers across the galaxy.”

Hux seriously doubted that. In the Mid Rim, maybe, but Arkis was not doing business with the Core Worlds, who last he’d heard had sworn off Arkanian business due to moral conflict. At least he hoped that was the case, otherwise they may be in a deeper predicament than he’d thought. 

As they passed down for minutes and the councilman droned on about the process of searching for diamonds, Hux ran his three fingers against the wall, feeling oddly nostalgic. Only Ren was behind him, and when he glanced back the man was staring impassively at him, his expression so aloof and unconcerned that Hux for a moment doubted this was the same man he’d been sniping with on his bridge months ago.

He was wrenched from his thoughts by a pain in his finger, and yanked it from the wall with a hiss. It was sliced neatly, like a papercut, directly vertical down the pad of his fingertip and it began to ooze slightly pale red blood as he watched. He kept walking, not missing a step and looked around himself, trying to find something on him to staunch the flow. 

Then, as he looked back down at it despairingly, it stopped. He pressed next to the wound with his nail, but no more blood came. He pushed again.

_ Stop it. _

Ren had projected thoughts to him very rarely in the past, and usually only in situations of peril. Still, he was able to let surprise show on his face for only a moment before twisting his torso around again to look at the Knight.

He still looked calm.  _ I’ve put pressure on the blood vessels, but if you poke it I may lose control over them.  _

Hux tried not to be surprised a second time.  _ Thank you _ . He thought, not knowing if Ren would get it but he sure as all hells wouldn't be verbalizing his gratitude. These exchanges in the past were one-sided.

Ren only smiled, the barest curve up of the corner of his mouth. 

Hux turned back and stuck the digit in his mouth briefly, wiping away the blood with a gentle swipe of his tongue and trying not to grimace. Such behavior was unsavory, but it was either that or wipe it on his clothes, and  _ that _ was not acceptable. For a fleeting moment, he felt something like shock zing through his belly, and was about to be confused until Falim turned around to address him and Hux had to jerk his hand from his mouth. 

“I’ll defer to Solair now, as we are about to be upon one of his furnaces.”

“Thank you,” said Solair, and the room opened up as they walked, until they exited the tunnel. The room they entered was wide, the rock walls only barely smoothed of their dangerous edges. The machinery came back in force, emerging from holes and snaking across the vertical surface at sharp angles. They increased in frequency and size at the far end of the hall, where they coalesced and entered into a large dark metal machine nestled into the wall. 

Hux almost stopped walking, struck by the recognition of his nostalgia. The beautiful, seamless union of nature and technology, the walls dug out with a hand that was precise but vaguely artistic. It felt like Starkiller. He was flooded with an ache in his chest, deep and familiar. It was an ache he had carried for weeks after its destruction, once the panic and stardust had settled and he was back in command on the  _ Finalizer _ . 

Solair gave him a look. “Are you well, Sir? Maybe the underground doesn't suit you.”

Hux reined in his emotions, wiping his face of expression. He had had months to mourn, he couldn't let it get in the way now. “I’m well, thank you.”

“Are you sure? I realize this is no starship, but I would have thought you would feel right at home.”

Hux gave him a cold little smile. “I don't have a grandiose city to galavant in, but believe me, there is much more space than this upon my Star Destroyer.”

Solair frowned almost imperceptibly, and Hux considered that a victory. The purple man turned, deciding to abandon the losing game. “This is one of the smaller furnaces, needing only to route heat from a few kilometers of mine. It heats six blocks above, through about ten kilometers of piping, though that is actually quite a small amount, given there isn't a high density of buildings in this area. This mine, as Falim said, was partially existent as a natural cave before Arkians started mining, so there are only furnaces every few kilometers to pull heat from active sites.”

“How do you extract the stones?” asked Hux.

“A mix of laser cutting and high heat water blasting. Diamond doesn't need much delicacy.” said Falim, hovering off to their left.

They rounded the corner of the furnace, the temperature raising by only a few degrees as they got close. Hux hated to admit, but building a furnace with insulation that good was impressive. Solair let out a soft gasp from in front of them.

_ “What do you think you're doing?” _

A thin man, maybe five foot ten inches with dirty blonde hair and plain, worn black clothes, started, looking away from a fuse panel with pliers in his hands. 

“ _ My apologies, Sir, there was-” _

_ “I don't care. Get out.”  _

The man looked anxiously between Solair and the panel, unsure, then shut it hastily and retreated down the hallway without another word. 

“Who was that?” asked Hux, eyebrow raised. This was the first he’d seen of anyone not dressed immaculately. In fact, the man looked downright grubby.

“No one. Literally.” replied Solair, and Falim shot him a disapproving look. “I mean, it's simply one of the many workers we have in the mines.”

“He didn't look Arkian.”

“Yes well,” Solair let the sentence hang, before seeming to grab onto the next thought, “you are aware looks can be deceiving, General.”

Hux narrowed his eyes and pulled his head back slightly. He wasn't sure whether to be insulted or not. On one hand, he didn't consider himself Arkian. On the other, the Sephi hybrid was saying that Hux didn't pass as one, despite the quite strong Arkanian blood in his veins. 

He heard a small clink of metal on metal behind him, and turned his head just enough to spy Ren out of the corner of his eye. He had laid his hand, clad in a single large silver ring, on the hilt of his lightsaber. His hip was cocked slightly in an imitation of calm, his expression still vague, but the tightness of his shoulders was a clear signal. Solair’s eyes had widened slightly. Hux didn't know why Ren was about to be quite literally up in arms for Hux’s honor, but he appreciated it in a strange way.

Hux waved a hand, making his fingers very obvious. “A fact that can be used to one's advantage, if acted on well.”

“True.” conceded Solair. “That’s all I have for you, I'm afraid that furnaces are compact and less visually impressive. Shall we continue?” He gestured down another tunnel just past the edge of the machine, giving another look to Falim. Nodding, they set off down the hallway.

Thankfully, the tunnel seemed to be angling upwards, after a gentle dive down likely a half a kilometer under the surface. The bulbs were brighter here, and Hux squinted uncomfortably in the harsh white light. He was busy trying to dispel the pain behind his eyes when a gentle hand pushed him back slightly by the chest, and he stopped abruptly. He almost whirled on Ren, and managed to make the turn, for the  _ third _ time, look marginally casual. 

Ren said nothing, did not project into his head, simply pointed to a place on the ground ahead where Hux would have certainly stepped. It had a small upwelling of rock, large enough to have tripped him up in his distraction. He rubbed a hand over his face, careful of the sparklings of silver lining around his eyes and under cheekbones, and nodded his thanks. Ren’s eyes softened only slightly, and he gestured them forward. 

It was a quick realization why the mines were so guarded. In this area they had left several clusters undug, to use as a show of the natural state of the caves. They were rich in gemstones, practically falling out of the cave walls, and while one hundred karats was piddling change to a trader, it was a huge payday for anyone else. 

Falim droned on, and Hux circled his thoughts back to the man that Solair had commanded away. 

_ He said slave. _

Hux blinked and thought  _ What? _

_ In his mind, when he was speaking to us. The emotions in his mind said slave. That man was forced labor.  _

Oh. That changed some things, but nothing that affected them. 

_ Did you know? _

Hux frowned, still trying to look like he was paying attention to Falim. 

_ No _ . He thought.  _ I haven't been here since I was a child. I suppose children aren't exposed to such things.  _ He didn't know how much of that Ren would get, but in the silence that followed he assumed enough. 

As they climbed the cave path back to their car, Hux mused. For a people that had left their home planet to escape genetics-based supremacy, they sure were following in the footsteps of their oppressors. 


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow, _somehow_ , to Hux’s most assured dismay, the day cycle was not over. After the grueling mental effort of three hours with the two councilmen that surely liked them less than they did not, there were still hours left in the cycle. Solair, despite his repeated jabs at Hux’s fortitude, had invited them to a council banquet. Apparently it was common practice, to hold an event where council members could gather before the official meeting. The council meeting was still a day away, and not approaching fast enough. It would have been extremely rude to show up on planet simply for the meeting, and anything Hux would have had to say, wrapped in his silver tongue or not, would have been lost to immediate distrust of the pair.

He stood again in front of the mirror, a giant and frankly overwrought item that took up half the bathroom wall, aside the countertop so he could see his full body. His outfit was flashier than anything else he would normally wear, but there was a chance...well. It wasn’t that he was bending himself to the collective will of Arkis, but it would be better overall if he looked obvious tonight.

As he bent forward at the waist, leaning his face in close to the immaculately clean glass, he noticed a stray eyebrow hair, and hastily grabbed his tweezers to pluck it out. His hair had been gelled back in his normal tight style, a welcome bit of familiarity to balance out his ridiculous attire. A circlet of black metal sat on his head and barely reached around to touch his forehead, splitting into two small horns. One reached up in a gentle curve off his hair, while the other bent down to graze his skin. He was irritated at how it clenched his hair just slightly, putting a dent that would persist after he took it off.

Deft fingers picked up a tube of wetliner from the countertop, nails scraping slightly on the marble. Hux had let his fingernails grow in the week before they left the _Finalizer_ , and the white edges of them were opaque, covered in a clear topcoat that gave them a wet sheen. He transferred the tube to his left hand, the two wide silver bracelets clamped on his forearm twisting with his wrist as he opened it.

Red liner was swept over his upper lids in a solid and bold line, making the icy green of his eyes pop out from under orange lashes. He winged it just barely, sharpening out the line of his lashes near the corners. Grey went on the lower lids, and he followed it all with the horridly sticky clear mascara he had been using. Anything else made his makeup look too dark.

His damaged middle finger was mostly healed, after they had returned the cut had naturally clotted despite his thin blood, and a quick bacta strip had closed it to the point he could flex it without discomfort while handling the products. He heard a clattering from the direction of the bedrooms, and he rolled his eyes, careful not to let his eyelashes hit his face on the upcurve. Ren had proven so far not to be utterly hopeless, but it was very likely that whatever he put on, Hux would have to adjust. If only the stubborn man would wear something on his sullen _face_. He tossed the liner back into a metal box with a clatter, and yanked out lipliner in a dusty dark red that he dragged over his top lip in a practiced motion. A matte chapstick went over top, blending the liner into the natural pink of his lips, and making the illusion of his upper lip being not quite so soft edged. Finally, he ran a tiny brush through his already immaculate eyebrows, and closed the case.

Taking a step back, he appraised himself. The outfit really was far too flashy for him. The stiff top was grey and a had an ornate red design embroidered on the front, inset with large sections of diamond and white silk thread. Half sleeves ended in subtle red ruffles, and hanging from his elbows was a wide strip of shimmery black fabric similar to his cape that hung loosely enough to let him keep full range of motion in his arms. The top was held up by triple-flared set of dark, heavily interfaced shoulder pieces that left his neck bare, a large heavy diamond clipping the two together. Two crisscrossing black belts held up his dark pants, and short topped, heeled boots gave him several extra inches of possible height leverage against other Arkians. All in all, he looked fine, the top cut his waist into a pleasant hourglass and the colors didn’t clash with his natural features, but he felt like a damn clown.

Another unfortunate-seeming noise came from outside the door, and he sighed, clicking his way out of the room and to the curtain between the living space and Ren’s room.

“Having trouble, Ren?”

There was a moment of silence, as if he’d frozen in place. “No.”

“Are you dressed?”

Another pause. “Yes.”

“Good.” Hux brushed back the curtain with a hand, his thumb glinting with a black ring, and stepped inside.

Ren was indeed dressed, if only barely. His long jacket was open, a thing that thankfully had fit in the arms but would not close over his chest. Instead Ren held it together with a black thin waist belt, just wide enough to hold his saber clip secure even though currently it was sagging from not being fully tightened. His pants had a high-waisted skirt that fell to his knees, in arrows of black matte vinyl, slit up the sides. The elbows of the jacket had a blocky pattern that looked like the joints of a bulky spacesuit, the back rose up behind his head in a strange, polygonal collar, and the undershirt, scattered with miniscule stones like the expanse of space from a viewport, had a neckline close to his throat. He was currently struggling to clip a pauldron, also sharply geometric in shape, to his shoulder.

“Heard of knocking?” spat Ren, looking frustrated.

“There’s no door.” replied Hux with a hint of a mocking tone, throwing Ren’s earlier words back at him. Ren huffed angrily, and went back to fiddling with the strap.

“Why don’t you use the Force?”

“The Force doesn’t _work like that_.” Ren grit out, grabbing for the other end of the strap and failing.

“It doesn’t? I’ve seen you open locked doors, steal people’s memories, all sorts of ridiculous things. A strap is too hard?”

Ren glared up at him. “It’s a complicated buckle.”

Hux raised an eyebrow, thoroughly enjoying watching Ren’s still grasping hand.

“Dammit, my abilities aren’t trained for delicate tasks, alright?”

Hux raised the other eyebrow to match the first. He was surprised that Ren would admit anything that sounded like a weakness, to him of all people, but Ren had been acting strange since they landed. As far as he knew, this was Ren’s first foray into the regular galaxy since...since he went to train with the Supreme Leader. What could have changed?

He let his eyebrows drop and ventured further into the room, rounding Ren as the other man watched carefully, and grabbing the other end of the strap. “Stop hunching over like that,” commanded Hux, and tugged the strap gently. “I’m plenty tall to get it with you standing.”

Ren looked down at Hux’s highly arched feet while he straightened up, and let his eyes roll up the rest of the orange-haired man’s form. He looked away, and Hux easily buckled the pauldron and let it rest securely on Ren’s shoulder. “Where’s the other?”

Ren pointed to the bed, where the right side pauldron lay. Hux picked it up, and underneath was a little pile of jewelry. Upon inspection, chains sliding through Hux’s fingers, it was a set of necklaces, all made of varying thicknesses of silver, one with a long teardrop-shaped ruby pendant, the back dipped in silver.

“Were you going to wear these?”

Ren didn’t look over. “I was considering it.” His tone was almost petulant.

Hux rolled the chains between his palms, the pauldron forgotten on the sheets. “You would look nice in them. Silver is a nice color for you.” He wasn’t sure why he was being so agreeable, something about how vulnerable Ren seemed was stirring a feeling akin to kindness in his chest. This man, who had been nothing but a nuisance, almost traitorous at times, since the first day he’d set foot on Hux’s ship, was such an enigma of personality that Hux, when presented with a new facet, wanted to see more.

Ren turned his face, and the wide bottom edge of his scar was shadowed enough by his hair to look less like the memory of a horrifying wound. “Give them to me.” Hux handed them over, and went back to fastening the pauldron as Ren dropped the chains over his head.

Looking him over from the side, Hux decided to press his luck. “You hair is everywhere. It would be better if I braided it again.”

Ren gave him another look that flicked up and down. Hux felt strangely appraised. “This is an important event,” he added, knowing it was a weak excuse.

It was another considering moment before Ren twisted his body and sat inelegantly on the edge of the bed. “Fine.”

“Right.” Now that he had what he wanted, he wasn’t sure how to go about it. His hands hovered a moment, Ren at eye level with his elbows. How was he, a human man, so ridiculously tall? “Actually, one moment.” He paced out of the room, shaking his head slightly, and into the bathroom, where he pulled out the same clip from the previous day from one of the many cases. When he returned Ren hadn’t moved, staring off at the far wall. Hux made quick work of his hair, pulling back the same two braids and clipping them with ease. “You know,” said Hux, daring to take a lock of hair off Ren’s shoulder between his fingers, “your hair is quite long. I could braid--”

“No.” Ren cut him off, pulling his head far enough away that the hair fell back.

“What, is two your limit?” asked Hux, crossing his arms.

Ren stood up, taking a step away. “I said no.”

“I heard you just fine,” he replied. The kindness that had blossomed in his chest crumbled away in irritation. “We don’t have time anyways. Put some shoes on and meet me at the taxi pickup.”

He turned on a heel, letting them click against the flooring harder than he should have as he left.

\---

The hovercar trip was awkward if it was anything. Hux sat in icy silence, and Kylo gazed idly out of the tinted window.

Hux was almost...anxious? He wasn't quite sure of the feeling. He wasn't insecure, but concerned nonetheless of their reception by the collection of councilmembers. Despite the theatrical nature of the whole thing, it didn't change the fact that if they did not resolidify the trade agreements, the First Order would be hurting for materials. Synthetics simply couldn't replace true diamond for hardness and utility. The problem so far was, they weren’t sure why their shipments had stopped in the first place. The First Order didn’t trade so much as buy, but their credits were as good as anyone’s on this end of the galaxy. But if the Arkians were trading past the Mid Rim? That may be a problem.

As always, the Supreme Leader’s statements on the mission had been vague and lacking most of the details other than their objective. It was casually infuriating, an emotion that Hux had gotten very comfortable with, working with Force users. He wasn’t sure why the Force went hand in hand with being unable to explain _anything_ , but he’d gotten used to it and had his own ways of gathering intel.

But in this case, intel had been slim pickings. Arkis rarely had visitors, and those were heavily screened before being allowed on the planet. The small ice ball had maybe 200 visitors in their long year, and all had left without trouble. Frankly, Hux was fairly sure that if anyone else from the First Order had asked to come on such short notice, they would have been denied.

He had tried to go more circuitous routes, looking through other companies at the flow of credits in and out of Arkis, tracking hand-offs and cargo manifests. There had been no significant change in the last few standard months. Arkis, following in Arkanis’ footsteps, was never shy about their prices, so he didn’t think that was an issue here. The First Order had always negotiated prices fairly but firmly.

Hux was pulled out of his thoughts as he seemed to always be, by Kylo Ren.

“What the hell is this?”

Hux looked over and down to see Ren’s hand, free of rings tonight, poking the wide spike on the side of Hux’s jacket, curved down low on his hip. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the necklaces slide across his chest as he leaned across the seats.

“It’s part of my clothes. Did you hit your head trying to get that outfit on?” he said, contempt sliding into his tone.

“I know that,” snapped Ren, “it looks ridiculous. What if you hit your arms on that?”

“I don’t hunch like an ape, so I won’t.”

Ren looked to be struggling to keep his face passive. It was a childish blow, but Hux was feeling petty, and he had few opportunities to indulge. “That whole thing is ridiculous. Did you buy that?”

“No!” Hux let the word slip in indignation. He firmly shut his mouth.

“Then who did?”

“None of your business.”

“Tell me.”

“Stars, Ren, you’re worse than a child.” Ren simply looked at him, resolute.

It took only ten seconds of Ren staring at him. What did it matter anyways? Ren already knew more about Hux than anyone in the Order. “My mother sent it, she knew I was coming somehow.”

Ren smiled, very slowly. “You’re wearing clothes from your _mom_?”

“Oh shut up. That’s extremely common here, clothing or jewelry are practically the only things to gift one another.”

“But you didn’t have to wear it.” He was grinning openly now, and Hux wanted to punch that grin right off his plush mouth.

“I did, in fact. There will be people here tonight that know my mother, and she will surely ask them. We need no more on our plate, Ren, I’m appeasing her at little cost to myself.”

“Is that all she sent you?”

Hux curled his lip. “Yes.”

“You’re lying.”

“By the _Order_ , Ren, you are a nuisance. What does it matter to you?”

Ren seemed to be entirely comfortable jabbing at Hux as much as possible, despite the threat of harm slowly writing itself across Hux’s features. “You simply have so many clothes...I didn’t think you’d be so vain to buy them all.”

Hux clenched his fists to keep from dragging one over his face, his overgrown nails biting into his palms with familiarity. “It is _still_ not your business, but fine, I was gifted a significant portion of my current wardrobe, most of which I will never wear. This was frankly one of the most mild choices.”

It looked that Ren was going to open his mouth again, and Hux held up a warning finger. “You ask another question and I promise I will put you on the first cargo ship off this planet, Supreme Leader’s orders be damned.”

The lingering grin didn’t leave Ren’s features as he fell quiet.

\---

The banquet was in a condominium-esque complex in the southern part of the city, and when they arrived it had already started. Being fashionably late was perfectly alright on Arkis, as people were often moving from one event to another through the cycle, and it had given Hux an excuse to avoid it while there were few enough people to make them stick out more. Obviously, he didn’t want to be here, but if Solair and Falim noticed they hadn’t attended, it would reflect poorly. It seemed that rest was not yet on the agenda.

The condo was a modest sixty stories, but its location closer to the border where the skyscrapers began to fall away was gorgeous, sitting near the worn mountains. Its highest floor, the location of the event, was all windows, the city on one end of the huge single floor and the white snowy expanse on the other. Ren and Hux’s taxi touched down on an outside docking platform near the top, and the howling wind was blocked by a shimmering blue forcefield.

A valet met them, walking up to greet them with a warm, “Morning Bright.” Hux returned the greeting, and Ren muttered something that may have been the same. The man glanced at their taxi, and then led them inside. The elevator was nauseatingly fast, as were all of the elevators on this planet apparently, but the doors swept open onto a scene that made Hux’s stomach flip an extra time.

Besides the breathtaking 360 degree view of the landscape, the room was decked in glittering silvers and blues. Chains of small gems looped across the ceiling in elegant curves, dipping low enough in some places to almost touch the tallest of Arkian heads. The floor was a highly polished grey flecked with green and white that, upon closer inspection, was natural kimberlite, gemstones and all. Lanterns were spaced across the ceiling, hanging at various lengths of silver chain, balls of cool white similar to the city’s lamp posts. The dim lights cast shadows that were many but calming, the addition of the lights from the city to the north making it just possible to see everything. Servers weaved through the crowd, holding trays laden with finger foods and champagne flutes, dressed in the darkest blues. The color scheme made Hux feel as if he stood out enormously, and he cursed his mother silently. As they took their first steps in Ren slid past him and into the crowd before Hux could tell him to wait, hair bouncing against his shoulders, and he cursed again.

\---

It was unwise to drink, but it was hard _not_ to be drinking. The party had gotten more crowded since their arrival, fitting several hundred people in the admittedly giant space. There was a dancing space cleared out near the southern side of the circular room, and music had started a short while ago. The guests were still getting comfortable, and few had ventured out on the dancefloor.

Meanwhile, while everyone else looked to be perfectly in their element, Hux was ready to pull out his hair, likely after stabbing his circlet into someone’s pale eye. He thought so far he’d made a fine impression, but one could only reasonably field so many questions on their heritage and hair color and what things were like working with those of lower intelligence. He had made a beeline for several councilmembers he had recognized from what information he had been able to gather about the council, and had spoken to one or two from every sector in a desperate attempt to make coming here worth it. Ren had appeared once or twice to stand statuesque at his side, but mostly lingered at the edges of the crowd. He was most often looking out the windows, seeming to have taken up a space at every point of the compass through the event. His sharp figure outlined by the grey whirling snowscape was an image that Hux had had trouble looking away from the first time.

After the third set of questions about his hair, he picked up a glass from one of the passing waitstaff. After the _fifth_ person had asked about his outfit, three of them commenting with thinly veiled snideness, he downed a second. The world became just slightly fuzzy at the edges, the lamps taking on a more comfortable glow.

A woman was speaking to him now, a council woman in the Law sector, and he was letting his responses run on autopilot as he used most of his brain power to calculate exactly how many more minutes he would need to be here before he and Ren could return to the hotel. Hell, he could even leave Ren. Wouldn’t that be lovely. He let a small smile grace his reddened lips as he responded, “Of course, ma’am.”

His attention clicked back into place as she held out a five-fingered hand to him, covered in a dark green glove. He ran through the conversation in his mind and saw her glance to their left, towards the dancers. Damn his exhaustion. He took her hand, and they strode towards the floor. He was lucky for his boots, as they gave him the barest two inches over her terrifyingly tall frame. He mused, she may be as tall as Captain Phasma, but Phasma was all muscled broad shoulders and rounded hips while this woman was a twig, her shoulders looking like birds wings. He settled his hand with minimum pressure on her waist and shifted her hand in his grip into proper form. They waited a few seconds until the next song began, something with cellos that was deep and slow. ([ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwDDgYp4ZZ8 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwDDgYp4ZZ8))

Hux hadn’t danced in so long that he wasn’t sure he still could. But her feet moved, and he managed to keep up with only slight delay. Arkanian, and therefore Arkian, dance didn’t really have a lead, so much as it remained at the whim of either partner; the pair could go into different moves and styles with a push of a hand. The song was slow enough to give him time to adjust, and after the first minute he felt comfortable enough to lead for a moment, taking the woman by apparent surprise as she looked up at him with widened eyes. Her light blue irises were certainly a sign of Arkanian blood, and almost melded with the ivory of her skin past her white sclera.

The song picked up, and she took back the lead, pushing him into moves that were unfamiliar but simple enough with his moderate skill. His hand left her hip as he turned out, having them clasped together only by their outstretched hands, and as his gaze swept over the small crowd that had formed, he glanced Ren. The dark man stood at the edge closest to Hux’s end of the dance floor, arms crossed and eyes intent on him, tracking as he stepped lightly around his partner. Hux felt as if he were suddenly putting on a show, feeling the gazes of more than just Ren upon him, and it was a small miracle that the song ended at that moment.

He nodded to the woman with a gentle “Thank you,” but she held tight to his hand.

“You must stay,” she said, her grey tinted hair out of place slightly from the last few spins. “A group dance is next.”

Hux wanted to yank his hand away, and he looked for Ren. The song was warming up over hidden speakers, the sound of wind, and before the woman turned him to situate them in line with other dancers entering the floor, he caught a flash of his almost black hair. He craned his neck. There he was across the room, and he was...with someone?

Hux pulled his eyebrows down in confusion just as the strings kicked in, and he was being led again. He was only with her for about fifteen seconds before passing off to a new partner, a shorter man in a dull grey robe. Dances were important to Arkians, a reason to touch others without appearing rude, or being at risk of mussing their attire inappropriately. All ages danced, and Hux glanced even a few bearded men working across the floor as he was passed off again. ([ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DRVvFYppU0w ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DRVvFYppU0w))

He switched partners five more times before the music changed tempo, becoming more urgent. He was passed off again at the beginning of a fast paced string solo, preparing himself to speed up with it, until his hands landed on arms that were clad in velvety grey, topped in black pauldrons.

“Ren, what?” Hux managed to ask, and hurriedly moved his arms to lead better, shifting his feet between Ren’s widely spaced ones to execute a very simple turn-in to buy them time.

“Just dance, Hux,” mumbled Ren, color rising to his cheeks. “I got dragged in.”

Hux pushed his surprise from the front of his mind and led, stepping Ren through basic moves. Arkanian dance wasn’t difficult, but it was very fluid and pacing could be difficult to master, especially in a song such as this where the tempo seemed to shift at the end of every sixteen count. Ren seemed to have picked up some level of fluidity in the last eight months, as he turned his body with an ease that hadn’t been present their last time together aboard the _Finalizer_. Ren had always been stomping around, rigid but with a prowling grace when wasn’t in a horrible mood, which was rarely.

It took a third spin-out to realize that they hadn’t switched again. Hux had figured they would be naturally led to switch when new partners opened themselves up, but it hadn’t happened. Hux’s cheeks reddened to match the Knight’s hue. It wasn’t rude, but it sent a certain signal to not switch partners during a group dance. He looked around intently for the next switch, and Ren barely stepped on his toe, causing him to stumble momentarily. He recovered within a second, turning his gaze back to the man in front of him to meet dark, deep brown eyes, and the song ended. Hux wasn’t sure whether to be dismayed or relieved. On one hand, it was over. On the other, he’d just danced half a group song with Kylo Ren.

The look on his face must have been negative, as Ren pulled away from him sharply, his hand leaving a warm spot around Hux’s elbow that was immediately obvious. His prior grace was overshadowed by all too familiar tightness, and Ren pushed past him to storm to the elevator. Hux turned to watch him go, too aware of the many eyes on them to call out. Ren disappeared alone into the elevator. Hux stood in the center of the floor, debating whether to follow or not, and finally went to the elevator, tapping the panel harshly with his nail.

He wouldn’t put it past Ren to have a tantrum and leave him here with the damages, he could easily come back up after the threatening storm of Ren’s temper had blown over, to avoid seeming as if he’d left the party without announcing his departure to people he’d been speaking to earlier.

The elevator rocketed down, and let him out on the docking floor. The room was similar to the top floor, with no dividing walls, but here there were no windows, and the space was filled with personal speeders and business hovercars in subtly eye-drawing colors and sleek shapes.

He walked down the ends of several aisles, until coming upon Ren. He was leaned against the hood of a speeder, next to an unfortunate dent in the hood that was vaguely fist-shaped. He didn’t look up as Hux approached, the fabric hanging from his arms fluttering and shimmering in the dim light.

“I’m entirely unaware of what your issue is Ren, but leaving like that could have been extremely damaging to the effort I’ve been making tonight. Not that you tried at all, but we must--”

“Who the kriff are you, Hux?” demanded Ren, standing abruptly from the speeder, his arms held stiffly away from his torso. That pose had always made him look somehow more intimidating in his Knight robes, though Hux had never succumbed to his attempts at physical intimidation. In this outfit it would have had a similar effect, if not for the slimming nature of the belt at his waist. No matter the outfit, he would not be spoken to by Kylo Ren like that.

“Excuse me? I’m not sure I understand your idiotically phrased question.”

“Who are you?” repeated Ren, stalking up to Hux. It was almost funny that he had to look up to _Hux_ , rather than the other way around, though the difference wasn’t too noticeable. “The man in that room wasn’t General Hux.”

Hux stood for a moment, shocked, and deliberately dropped all pretense he had held during the party. The arched brow and natural slant of his shoulders rolled off, and he tightened up into parade rest, hand coming up slowly to clasp behind his back. Feet slid apart to shoulder width, removing the self-assured slant of his hips. His chin dropped enough to cease looking down at Ren, instead meeting their eyes squarely.

“You will not question my behavior among them, Lord Ren. I am, and always will be, a General of the First Order. If your own idiocy is ingrained this deeply, I fear the Supreme Leader has made a grave mistake in letting you leave his side.”

Ren shook his head, fists clenching. Hux felt familiar here, on solid ground for the first time since they’d stepped foot on this planet. Of course, having a fight with Ren would be what did it. He never felt less in control but more assured in his fury than when Ren challenged him. “You aren’t.” he said, tone firm.

“How dare you even--”

“You’re one of them out there!” yelled Ren, lifting a hand to jab back towards the elevator. “You’re perfect and you fit in without trying. I don’t belong here and you do and nothing made it more obvious than seeing you on that floor. It’s infuriating.”

Hux let those words slide around his brain like the champagne now swirling in his stomach. Where in all space did he get that Hux was _perfect_? What did that mean? Arkians were so far from his idea of perfection that he wondered what exactly Ren was talking about. But he was flustered nonetheless, no one had described him in such a way before, not even to talk about his practically flawless marksmanship or calculations.

“Is it because...I can dance? I’m sure it's a surprise but Ren,”

“No. No, it’s,” Ren scoffed an angry sigh, and waved his hand at Hux.

“You just gestured to all of me.”

“ _Exactly!_ ” Ren was back to yelling, the sound bouncing between the cars and echoing across the room.

“Alright,” hurried Hux, breaking his stance to shush Ren with his hands, then quickly put them down. He wasn’t really helping his case here. “Alright. Listen to me closely. It doesn’t matter if you don’t look as if you belong here, or if I do. The fact is we don’t. This is only a short trip, and after the council meeting is over we will likely go straight back to the _Finalizer._ ” Hux paused. Would Ren be going back to the First Order flagship to stay? Or would he return to Snoke? “I act this way because I must, for the good of the Order. I don’t know how that appears…” He couldn't say it. “But either way it will be over soon. You have nothing to prove to them, you are simply here to assist me. We will leave, and their opinions will not matter. None of this act is real.”

“It is, though.” Ren reached for him, and Hux let him take his hand and bring it up between them. “Parts of it.” He turned Hux’s hand over, studying the deep lines in his palm and running the pad of his thumb across thick nails. “To know you’ve been hiding all of this,” the thumb traveled up and rubbed over the black rings on his pointer and pinky fingers, “I couldn’t imagine that being the case.”

“I wasn't hiding.” replied Hux, trying not to flinch his sensitive fingers away. The bracelets glinted as Ren turned his hand over again, both thumbs resting on a knuckle on either side. Hux looked up from their hands and knew what was going to happen like an electric shock, so shortly before it occurred that he had no chance to react.

The knight leaned forward, dipping his head down with a hint of awkwardness to brush their mouths together, once and then more firmly a second time when Hux didn't stop him. A third time, and Hux was starting to wonder if the whole world had gone insane or something was in the air on this planet that made him not _want_ to stop him. Ren’s lips were wide, and felt exactly as soft as they appeared. He thought briefly, with a touch of shocked hysteria, that his lipliner was probably ruined as Ren kissed him again, holding it and touching Hux’s closed lips lightly with his tongue.

They were still holding hands, a fact Hux noticed only when Ren finally let go, instead placing his wide hands on his waist and upper arm, a replication of their dancing form just minutes ago. It felt entirely natural to settle his own hands on Ren’s upper back and shoulder, to let the man lead him in a slow turn that settled Hux half-seated against the hood of another speeder. Their mouths had not separated, having let Ren in and becoming quickly preoccupied with making sure that he wasn't dominated in what was becoming quite a bit more of a heated kiss than it began. Ren dragged his thumb across the underside edge of the red embroidery, Hux twitching his side in response.

Their quiet huffing breaths didn’t carry too far in the room, but echoed just enough to begin to bring Hux back to his senses. He slowly removed his hands from the other man, breaking their kiss and leaning back with a reluctance he was very confused about but didn't have time to consider at the moment. Ren tried to follow, but Hux pushed him back with a firm hand on his chest, feeling the rough texture of the gem-covered fabric.

“You’ve...calmed down then.” said Hux, trying to breathe steadily. “Good. We should go.”

Ren looked at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted a fifth finger. “Where?”

“To the banquet. We need to return to make a proper exit, as much as I would prefer not to.”

“I’m not going back up there.” said Ren, and he had the inflection that he put on when he was being stubborn, and the look in his eyes was teetering toward another outburst. “We can stay here, or go back to the hotel.”

Hux certainly did not want to go back to the hotel, not with the memory of Ren’s mouth fresh on his mind.

Hux glanced around, seeing a large minimalistic clock on the wall near the elevator. “Alright. It’s hour 16, the banquet will be ending very soon and we can't stay here. The hotel is across the city, and I have questions about some things before the meeting. There simply isn't enough data. We have no events in the night, so I was going to do reconnaissance during this sleep cycle. If you'd like, I would prefer you assist me.”

Ren looked him over and Hux had to center his gaze towards his hair to avoid looking at his lips, now dark with blood flow and makeup. His lower lip was also stuck out slightly in a pout that was as attractive as it likely was unintentional. He pulled his eyes back up.

“A sound plan, General.” replied Ren, backing away from Hux and he could have sworn his skin was burning where Ren’s hands had been.

“Good. I’ll call a taxi.” Hux did not exactly run away from Ren, but he did walk very purposefully towards the docking platform and did not look behind him. He was almost positive Ren would be staring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookies for anyone who catches the movie reference :3


	4. Chapter 4

The ground streets of Arkis were generally quiet, citizens opting often to take their vehicles high into the skyline highways rather than walking. During the sleep cycle however, the silence was almost oppressive. The streetlamps were brighter to give the illusion of this time being darker than any other time on the planet that almost never saw sunlight, and cast shadows in every conceivable corner, of which there were many in the geometrical city. 

The hovercars were unmanned, the taxis having a voice-command navigation system, and loaded with all the addresses of Nyx. It was easy work for Hux to have Ren pull out the panel with the Force, and connect the manual override. Ren had given him an impressed look, to which Hux responded, “I’m an engineer. You think I could design a superweapon but not hotwire a hovercar?” He slid into the front seat and Ren followed, clambering into the passenger seat as the car rocked gently in midair. 

“Why do you get to drive?”

“Because I know where I’m going?” Hux kept his eyes firmly forward as he put the car into forward and turned back into the skylane, heading west from their location halfway back to the hotel. They had driven in not entirely awkward silence for ten minutes, their car seeming to be the only one out for miles. Arkians took their schedule very seriously, apparently, and everyone was tucked away somewhere for the six hour rest. 

He had dipped them downwards, parking just to the side of a wide white sidewalk that looked the same as everywhere else. As they got out, Hux pulled his datapad from the backseat and Ren stretched, looking around.

“I’m fairly sure I could have driven us to a random spot in the middle of the city.”

“This isn’t random,” replied Hux, not letting himself rise to Ren’s bait. “We are in the center of one of the business blocks, export. If there’s anything else to know, here is where we would find it, short of the capital or council building.” 

“You want to break into an office?” 

“If that’s what is necessary, yes.” He tossed his head, a strand having fallen from the grip of the circlet onto his forehead. “But let’s spend some time getting a survey of the area. It isn’t as if we don’t have hours.” Truthfully, he wanted to simply get some air, and have more than a foot of space between himself and Ren. He still felt warm, overly so, and the cold air blowing in lazy gusts down the streets was a relief. He turned from the car after making sure that it wouldn’t fly off without them, and began down the sidewalk.

Ren glided up behind him, unfairly quiet in his wide boots, and they walked. It really was a shame that they couldn’t see stars past the swirling sky, but he looked up as they made their way down the street anyways. Hux thought he remembered this shade of grey, a dim memory from childhood before the Academy. His mother had said something about it while they looked out a large rhomboid window in their condo, holding Hux’s small hand and frowning at the view. 

_ A storm’s coming, dearest.  _

Hux tapped on his datapad, the backlight illuminating his face and making him wrinkle his nose when he narrowed his eyes. He let his fingers jump across the screen, using all his resources to try and find any building owned by a council member. It was no surprise to him when his personal account pinged, and he jumped to the notification. 

He hadn’t realized that Ren was hovering behind him so closely until a noise of shock erupted near his shoulder. He stopped and Ren almost crashed into him, he was looking so intently at the pad. “How much of those clothes did you  _ buy _ ?”

Hux rolled his eyes. “We’ve been over this, most of it was sent by my mother.”

“I mean for me.” 

Hux blinked, and looked back down at the datapad. There, the latest charge after the last taxi ride, almost fifty thousand credits. He cleared his throat. “Ah.”

“Ah? You said the Order would pay for it.”

“They did. Until we used our budget.”

“Why didn’t you buy  _ less! _ ” 

“Who knows how long we may be here, Ren, I wasn’t going to risk you being seen in the same outfit twice. Might as well buy it now.” 

“If I would have known you bought them, I would have paid myself.” Ren glowered, looking away from Hux and towards one of the building surrounding them. 

Hux couldn’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed  _ and _ guilty. “Well, you didn’t. I’m quite wealthy, I am a General. Forget it.”

Ren’s frown was firmly in place as he wandered away from him to look unabashedly through long windows into darkened foyers and offices, turning a corner into what seemed to be an immaculately clean alleyway between two towering buildings. A particularly sudden gust of wind swept down the aisle, fluttering Ren’s skirt around his knees and almost yanking Hux’s hand from his pad when it caught the inside of Hux’s arm train like a parachute. He scowled, ready to rip the unnecessary fabric off. Ren turned, catching Hux’s eye and frowning more deeply. 

“There’s someone in there.” 

“What?” asked Hux. “Who?”

“I don’t know, they’re walking around in the dark, crouched over.” 

“Read their mind.”

“I can’t.” replied Ren, bringing his hand up to rest on the glass. “He’s Arkian though. Or...he’s...he has Arkanian blood. It’s hard to read your minds without true line of sight, they’re structured differently.” 

Hux walked over to the window, staring through the crystal clear glass into the dark room. He could see it clearly, the form of a man walking back near the end of a long hallway. 

“Everyone should be asleep, or at least in their residences.” 

Ren shrugged a shoulder, and Hux leaned as close as he could without bumping his nose. He concentrated on the scant illumination behind them, and was able to resolve the view into something the smallest bit more clear. “He’s holding something. A broom?”

“Why would he be holding a--shit!” Ren’s lightsaber flew to his hand just as someone grabbed Hux from behind, materialising from the shadows and dragging a muscular arm around his throat. Hux let out a noise of surprise, almost dropping his datapad and gripping it tightly in one hand that he curled to his chest. Hot breath hit his ear while cold flesh tightened around his neck as he was pulled back and away from Ren. 

“Let him go.” growled Ren, looking at Hux with questioning eyes. His saber stayed unignited, held tightly in his right hand, waiting for Hux to give him a sign. Since when had he been so well controlled? 

The man did nothing but breathe heavily and irritatingly directly in his ear, holding his free hand out towards Ren. 

_ “Give me your jewelry.” _

“Are you  _ kidding me _ ?” Hux burst out in exasperation, and was rewarded by the man tightening his grip. He ignored it. “He’s attempting to mug us, Ren. I’ll handle this.” 

The man seemed agitated by their use of Basic, and he shifted enough to loosen his grip momentarily. Hux turned his shoulder in towards the man’s chest, and wrapped both hands in a bruising grip around the outstretched wrist. In a fluid motion, he planted his feet as best he could, shoved his weight back hard, and pulled forward on the arm. The man, brought abruptly off balance, was yanked in a messy shoulder throw that landed him hard on his back and looking up at two angry faces. 

Ren’s free hand came to Hux’s lower back as he stumbled in his ridiculous heels turning away from the mugger, and he told himself that the heat on his cheeks was from adrenaline. Really, despite being physically fit, the man didn’t seem much of a threat. His grey and black clothes were ratty and sewn back together in some spots, making him look more like a scavenger than an Arkian. But his just barely too-dark pale brown hair and pink-tinted skin were impossible to miss. Ren ignited his lightsaber, bringing it close to the man’s neck, the sparking plasma searing hairs from the stubble on his chin. 

“ _ Please, I didn’t know you were guests, I apologize, please let me go.” _ He begged instantly, one hand raised opposite the saber to cover his face. Ren brought back the weapon in a coiling motion, and Hux shot out a hand to stop him.

“No, Ren.”

“He tried to kill you, General.” His enraged expression was in plain view, twisting his scar. 

“He did no such thing, he tried to mug you with me as a hostage. Truly pathetic, and not threatening in the least.”

Ren still looked ready to strike. 

“Stand  _ down _ , Lord Ren.” Hux had put his Voice back on, the only one that had ever seemed to stall the wildly shifting emotions of the Knight in the past, on the bridge and other places where things and people should not be broken. 

It seemed to work this time. He lowered the saber slowly, hand still pressed to Hux’s back, the warmth of him once again radiating into his skin. When Hux opened his mouth to speak again, Ren tipped the blade down, pressing the tip briefly into the back of the man’s hand. The man yelled in pain as Ren turned off the saber, but quickly stopped to stare at him. He nodded frantically, then scrambled backwards, tripping to his feet and running into the shadow of the next building over. 

Hux sighed, then took a carefully deliberate step sideways, away from Ren’s lingering hand. Ren let it hang, then dropped it as he Forced the saber back onto its clip. “Why did you let him live?” he demanded, the gentleness of his gestures at odds with the restrained rage still etched into his face. 

“It would have blown our whole mission here, using violence like that, whether on a slave or not. He wanted the jewelry to likely attempt getting off Arkis. He wouldn’t have succeeded, I think, but it was a valiant effort. Though how he gave up so fast was a souring point…”

“Where is your  _ blaster, Hux? _ ” 

“I didn’t know I would need it! I can’t be walking around openly armed, this isn’t a warship this is a civilian planet! I handled it without, didn’t I?” He waved his arms indignantly, wind ruffling his already disheveled hair. He was pretty sure he smelled now, catching lingering whiffs of a scent like burning water and acrid chemicals. 

Ren rested his hand on his hip, close to his saber, and looked around warily. “So the man inside was a slave too, then. Their thoughts were similarly shaped, like an Arkians but somehow duller.”

“Likely from having no rights or higher education,” remarked Hux, “I doubt another will bother us. But it explains why Arkians stay inside during the sleep cycle. This must be the time when the slaves come out to clean, those who don’t work underground or in factories.”

“There are factories?”

“Likely underground as well but yes. There’s a whole city of factories, to the east, called Cae. The gems here may be pure enough to ship without cutting, but they do need to be separated from the rock.”   

It was a long moment of Ren continuing to look around into the windy night before he shifted his weight onto one hip, turning towards the building they had been staring into. “Let’s go inside. Arkis is on a network right? You can hack into it from anywhere then.”

That wasn't strictly true, Hux thought, but anything not on the network would likely be tucked away in an executive area, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to risk anyone, slave or not, seeing them breaking into a councilman’s personal office. 

Hux brushed past him to walk around the building, looking for a side door. He found one, a dark grey steel that blended in well to the wall. 

“Go on, then.” he said, and Ren stretched his hand towards the door.

\---

Thankfully, the car was still waiting when they returned, slinking out from under the shade of the skyscraper in the surprisingly lightened sky. They had searched the giant building for four hours. A majority of the time was spent methodically clearing floors and avoiding slaves. On what was either the 36th or 37th floor, after so many Hux didn't care to remember, they found the technical department, and Hux spent an uncomfortable half hour on the cold floor, hunched under a desk in various twisted positions trying to rig the drives up to his datapad. He downloaded everything he thought he could un-encrypt from the  _ Lucea _ company server, and whatever he could grab from their sister and partner companies as well. They had gotten extremely lucky in their random choice of building,  _ Lucea _ was a micro-gem distributor that assuredly had dealings with the First Order as well as other enterprising groups in the Outer Rim and Unknown Regions. If they had picked a fashion company, well. 

Before they reached the car Ren lengthened his strides, easily outpacing Hux who was starting to wonder if he could feel his toes or not. When Ren dropped into the driver's seat, Hux rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

Ren’s hands looked so much bigger than his, gripping the steering column, and more than just large they looked sturdy. Ren was solidly built, no one could argue that, but with all the layers he normally wore it was generally impossible to make out his true shape. However it seemed his robes didn't lie, Ren was built like a transport shuttle: wide and thick and sturdy. The skin of his hands was deeply grooved around the knuckles, but his pale skin was smooth everywhere else, and his nails weren’t set unattractively into his fingers like so many human men’s tended to be. 

He mused over his own hands, curled and relaxed in his lap. To no one’s surprise, the First Order was somewhat xenophobic. It wasn't that you couldn't join, but you were likely to have a harder trek up the ranks, and be subjected to more tests and more reprogramming before you were trusted. Non-human minds, even Near-human ones, were built differently, and couldn't be taken for granted as working the same way as a human mind. That was likely the reason Hux had done so well, being naturally more mentally gifted than his peers. 

It hadn't been his decision to hide his hands. It had been his father's, Commandant Hux, right before he had been sent from Arkis to the Academy. His mother had fawned over his little hands, making sure they showed at the parties he was brought to, kissing them when he was being tucked in for sleep, adorning his fingers with tiny diamond bands and always telling him that his hands made him special, better. Then, at eight years old, his father had said he needed to hide them and handed him his first pair of gloves, made of supple black-dyed hide and tailored to his exact size, the cybernetics on the outer side padding out his hand width and responding to the rapid twitches of his muscles to move his new mechanical pinky with such fluidity it was impossible to tell it wasn't real. Every birthday and Empire holiday he had gotten a new pair of gloves, after carefully sending full rotation holos of his hands for sizing. They came in dark colors, always, and always expertly tailored. 

Otherwise he looked indistinguishable from a normal human. His eyes were striking but not unheard of. His hair was eye catching but not impossible. For a while, somewhere between the standard year ages of twelve and fourteen, he forgot he  _ wasn't _ fully human. He would take off his gloves at night or in the fresher and not even notice, the illusion of the fake finger’s presence ingrained into his mind. But as he grew, his genetic deviations became more pronounced, and some days it was a struggle to see how he could integrate himself without giving something away, deflecting questions about his height or his vibrant features or his extremely sharp eyesight. Hux hadn't looked at his real hands so consistently in almost twenty years. 

Hux looked up to see Ren looking at him, giving him a feeling on the back of his neck that he was becoming far too accustomed to.

“You're thinking about something quite singularly, something...remembered. What kind of memories are they?”

“Nothing important.” replied Hux, pressing his palms together. “I was musing on the fact that the Order and Arkanians are similar in some ways. They are inherently untrusting of those not their kind.”

“What is their kind, in the First Order?” asked Ren, turning his eyes back to the sky ahead. 

“Human, generally. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Apparently not, given their General.”

That put a tiny thrill down Hux’s spine. He’d never really meant to hide his mixed blood, it had simply happened. “I wonder what my crew would say, if they knew.”

“Everyone hides something. Your capabilities speak for themselves, it matters little.”

“My capabilities are directly influenced by my genetics.” Hux huffed a short laugh. “My father was brilliant, in his own way, but he would never have gotten as far. My mother...she could out maneuver my father conversationally and seemed to put little effort in. If she had been more interested in galactic politics rather than how many outfits she could buy in a given week, she could have been a force to be reckoned with. You’ve said yourself, reading our minds is different. I am different.”

Ren seemed contemplative. “I am also different. But in our case, different is simply another term for better. More equipped.”

_ Don’t listen to the other children, darling. My blood runs strongly in you, gave you these beautiful hands, and you will outshine them all. _

Hux looked up from his hands. “Ren, where are we going? The taxi drop is up there.”

Ren had gotten them back to the hotel, but had dipped towards the ground, directly the opposite way from the upper docking platform nearest to their suite. 

“To the shuttle port.”

“And pray tell, why are we going there?”

“To get your blaster.”

“For what, Ren? What, is a councilwoman going to try to stab me with a soup spoon? Don't be ridiculous, that event with the slave was unexpected but manageable.” Hux had left his officers uniform and effects on the shuttle, folded with obsessive perfection and left in a case in the cargo bay. He deeply missed his greatcoat, its comfortable weight was vastly preferable to airy arkian garments. 

Ren stared at him with utmost seriousness, a Knight of Ren once more. “What did we just gather intel for? I’ve told you plainly, I don’t fully understand these minds, but I don’t trust not knowing. There are unknowns here that we cannot guarantee the explanations of. Everything is...off, in a way I can’t explain. It has been two days and a week’s worth of prior holo messages, and you are no more assured of what our objective is here. I’m willing to wait until tomorrow's meeting to make any decisions, but to not arm yourself is an unnecessary risk.”

Turning away, he angled them neatly onto the lower platform that led into the shuttle port. “I’m getting it, whether you are there or not.”

That propelled Hux out of his seat, hurrying to follow Ren as he stretched his legs towards the lobby. Letting Ren talk to anyone here was asking for trouble, especially with the strange mood swings he’d been subjected to. He slid himself in front when they reached the desk, smiling close-lipped at the woman with grey-tinted skin and hair caught up in a tight set of buns and box chain netting. “We would like our ship brought to the platform, ma’am.”

She smiled back, a fake thing with too many teeth showing. “Morning bright, Sirs,” she said in accented Basic, though they were less than an hour from night. “What room are you in?”

“Eighty.”

“One moment.” She went to the screen on her desk, and then a look of surprise, hastily covered, crossed her face. “I..apologize, Sirs. Your shuttle isn’t here.”

Hux felt the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety that he’d managed to block off in his chest drop into his stomach. “It isn’t.”

“No.” She looked back down at the screen, eyes rapidly moving along what seemed to be several lines of text. “It was moved to another hangar for...maintenance of the area, I didn't,” she broke off, nervous. “If we would have known you would have been sent a notice. I’m not sure what happened, I apologize again. I can put on a request to bring it back, but not until later tonight.”

Hux caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A large man in clothes that were nice but far from extravagant. In fact, he looked as if he was trying not to be noticed. A guard then, maybe, watching the floor and it's expensive contents at night. He probably had no knowledge of them or Hux’s current growing discomfort. Things simply weren't adding up, the man had a blaster tucked into a holster on his hip, and Hux wanted to leave the open space immediately.

“It wasn’t urgent. We can come back, it is quite late. Excuse us.” He turned to find Ren staring intently at the woman, concentration on his face, and Hux had to practically push him to get them moving towards the elevator.

Once the doors slid closed, Hux sighed heavily, leaning with barely-held grace against the wall. “Why would they move our ship?”

“I don't know, but it doesn't make much sense.”

“Two options.” Hux held up two fingers, his pinky curled into his palm,  “One, they are doing maintenance, and forgot to give us notice. That ship isn't exactly small, it wouldn't be unreasonable.”

“Two,” said Ren, “they moved it on purpose, and something is wrong. The woman's surprise was genuine, but she seemed confused as well.”

“I don't want it to feel that way, we have no proof but,” Hux sighed again, “it does. No one has even approached me about the Order or the trade agreements. Falim was closest to doing so, and he framed the whole thing as a tour. For Arkians, to avoid a topic about money is strange. We aren't their biggest trade partner, but we are large. To end trade so abruptly in the first place, well, it didn't make much sense, and to refuse to conduct negotiations over a secure holo channel? To make us come planetside? I thought it was a show of conceded power, now I can't help but consider alternatives. However, for the life of me I cannot figure an angle that doesn't seem wildly unlikely.”

Ren hummed thoughtfully, a deep sound coming from his chest that had Hux glancing down to the shimmery fabric and back up. 

“Regardless.” His hands came out from behind his back, where Hux had not noticed he had tucked them, holding a laser pistol.

“Ren!” Hux grabbed the weapon as the elevator chimed arrival to their floor. “Where did you get this?” he hissed. 

“The guard. He won’t notice until later, and he won’t remember us.”

“You  _ mind tricked _ him? You didn't even move!” Hux had nowhere to tuck the pistol in his skin tight clothing, but the elevator opened directly into their rooms, and he placed it on the countertop before tugging off his heels, hissing at the feeling of being able to stretch his toes. 

“Him and the woman.” said Ren, sounding vaguely proud, or maybe Hux was hearing what he expected to hear. 

Hux looked him up and down. No, he had nowhere to hide it either. His outfit was...very form fitting.

“I don’t care. I should be shocked that you stole a blaster for me, but I am too tired to bother. I am going to sleep, I expect you not to bother me unless it is important, and we will leave again at hour 10.” He snatched up the blaster again, along with his shoes and his datapad, and retreated while he had the chance.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The next day saw Hux with unfortunate bags under his eyes and a temper that was as sudden as it was volatile. Ren had asked him what he wanted for breakfast/lunch, “Or whatever damn mealtimes are called here”, stepping only a single foot past the curtain while Hux was still in bed, and he, half asleep, had nearly yelled the man back into the other room.  

It had been a long known issue of his, becoming very short-fused while under stress. And the sudden not-totally-confirmed revelations of the past night had loaded him with more stress than he had dealt with in months. Running the _Finalizer_ was easy, he could practically do it in his sleep. Once or twice he probably had. But in this case there were so many things he simply couldn't confirm, and his dreams, as few as they were in his extended sleep, had been of faceless tall people grabbing at him or at Ren, ripping at their delicate clothes, trying to take everything away. Either scenario was somehow just as terrifying.

He rolled himself out of bed at hour 6, when his datapad chimed irritatingly. They had only five hours before they were to be present at the council meeting that was a solid half hour’s trip away, and Hux would need at least two of those to prepare himself. He needed to shower, dry his hair, moisturize, apply fresh nail polish, choose an outfit, put that outfit _on,_ and finally do his makeup and choose accessories. And that was all while trying to make Ren presentable. He would _not_ , over Hux’s dead, non-human body, go to a meeting of a thousand of the most powerful people on Arkis without looking immaculate. They would present a united front today, whether that meant Hux literally wrestled him into nice clothing or not. He had been fairly accepting so far, however, and Hux hoped he would get Ren ready with minimal altercations.

He trudged towards the single bathroom and almost bumped into the door, surprised in his haze to find it closed.

“Ren?”

There was a shuffling sound, and the door opened. Ren’s hair was a wet mess, and Hux very much wanted to touch the dripping strands that draped over his shoulders. He refrained, barely, clasping his hands behind his back. It took him another few seconds to find the dark man shirtless, in black slacks that hung lazily on his hips without a belt to hold them. He blinked once slowly.

Without a word Ren moved around him standing squarely in the doorway, and went back to his room. Hux shook it off, blaming his slowness on exhaustion, and went to start the shower.

A luxurious half hour later, under water than was blessedly almost scalding, Hux felt something like alive and with marginally more patience. He roughed up his hair with a black towel before wrapping the damp thing around his waist, and started in with the blowdryer and a flat comb. It was then Ren came back into the room, knocking for a barely second before simply opening the door and striding in. It took all of Hux’s effort not to try and cover himself, or at least tighten the towel.

He instead looked over to Ren with a raking gaze, silently refusing to turn off the dryer. “Do you need something? It’s clearly occupied.”

Ren simply came to stand beside him, looking into the mirror himself and opening a small jar he’d walked in with. “The room is large enough.” He dipped his finger into a pale green translucent paste and began smoothing it over his scar.

“Are you still using bacta on that?” Hux couldn't help but ask, dragging a comb through his bangs and angling them in a gentle swoop towards his ear.

“It isn't just bacta. There are plant extracts from various planets, the Jedi said they could have impressive healing powers, even on old injuries.”

Ren moved on from his face, the paste next being spread on the shoulder scars he had earned from both the traitorous stormtrooper and the scavenger. He had gotten the report from Ren himself, in the shuttle that raced away from the planet as it crumbled, as he babbled half-madly about how it was impossible that the two untrained children had beaten him. He had helped cut Ren out of his ruined robes before backing away, letting the medics do what they could, trying to quickly staunch the blood flow from his side, a mass of ugly fiery red and purple flesh from what he later learned was a bowcaster shot. He looked at the healed wound now, letting the dryer list forgotten in his far hand. It was large, to be frank. Ren had clearly lost a chunk of flesh and muscle from the explosive entry alone, and the cauterizing damage had spread the diameter of the wound to stretch in what was approximately an eight inch circle. That side was still slightly thinner than the other, even after months of recovery. This wound he did not put the medicinal mixture on. His hair still dripped without concern onto the countertop and the floor, and Hux went back to doing his hair. He had no time to stare at the heavily scarred body of Kylo Ren when they had somewhere to be. Scratch that. He didn't have time _ever_.

 

 

It took another hour to finish his routine, giving his skin and nails time to dry in the safety of the fresher that he locked the door to after Ren had left for the second time. When he emerged, he had thrown a flowing black robe over his nude form, careful to avoid his perfectly styled hair, and didn’t see the other man during the short trip to his own room.

Picking an outfit was the difficult part. He unfortunately had a meter length space worth of outfits available to him, but as he’d said, half of them were simply unwearable. His mother must have thought of him very different than he thought of himself, given the skin that showed through most of them. More unfortunate, he’d already worn the most subtle pieces, and the council was anything _but_ subtle. From the photos he’d seen, it was more like a fashion show than a political gathering. He starting flicking between the magnetic hangers with disdain, trying to find something that fell somewhere between the two. He looked for what felt like forever before he paused, looking over a particular robe.

It was long, the train would trail the ground for several inches behind his feet. The fabric was a cream tone, a color that was uncommon in Arkian garments, but he considered it. With his bright hair and pale skin, there was a chance it would wash him out, but it could instead serve to accent his features, make his skin glow rather than dull. The leather that wrapped the waist and hips in a series of connected deep V’s was reddish, and the outfit closed the leather together at a hidden zipper in the back. The half sleeves, which were always popular in younger men’s fashion, had golden straps just above the elbow where white sheer draped down in a wide arc, coming to reconnect at the top of the zipper. Clasping wrist straps did the same, creating two flowing layers. He frowned, having quite enough of the strange cape-trains, but pulled it from the hangar anyways.

Once he had put it on, long arms easing behind him with surprising flexibility to manage the zipper, he realized why it was from his mother. He was so sure that this could be the one exception to her attempts to put him in inappropriate styles, but he was proven wrong.

The main fabric of the dress wasn’t _entirely_ opaque. He would have to wear a cloak while traveling, or there was no way the outline of his nipples wouldn’t be clearly visible. It had puffed shoulders that seemed to float off his body, and he would have to wear a slip to preserve his modesty. That wasn’t even the worst part. He had failed to notice, with the fabric folded in on itself on the hangar, that the front plummeted into a deep V-neck that met at the beginning of the leather, almost down to his navel. The deep, wide line between his pectorals and the sharp jut of his collarbones were starkly exposed. He glanced at the time, displaying prominently on his datapad, and sighed. There wasn’t time to try on things all evening. It would be fine with adjustments, and he would certainly be noticeable.

After making himself mildly comfortable in the outfit, he steeled his nerves for a verbal fight with Ren, if not a slightly physical one. Ren had been shockingly calm, but his patience had to run out somewhere. Stars, Hux’s already had. But if Ren budged even a thread on his carefully settled clothes...Hux could not be held responsible.

He pulled the curtain back from the wall, peeking into the next room. This time Ren wasn’t struggling, but rather standing in the middle of the room, gazing off into nothing. His hand was wrapped around his side, the other limply holding a waist belt that dangled with chains of gems. His outfit was shades of black, the deepest being the knee-length tunic, the palest the sweeping underskirts that draped over his shins and raised behind either side of his head in a wide crescent moon. His shoulders were covered by close-fitting pauldrons that looked like metal, and though Hux couldn't see his knees he believed the bulges under the skirts were armor as well. Despite their elegant appearance, they had a shine that was certainly partially metallic. His top, covering his chest under the center opening of the tunic, had a row of close-set glittering black gems on either side of the closure. He wore gloves that covered past his elbows, and had poorly set a circlet of twisted black wires on his brow. He was looking out the window on the far side of the room, or rather possibly the middle space between himself and the window, and had a look of emptiness that was mournful but almost open, waiting. Deeply set eyes looked sideways, catching Hux’s movement.

There was no use trying to leave once he’d been seen, and he straightened up, putting on his own armor of confidence. He didn't hesitate to pluck the belt from Ren’s loose grasp, but could only look at the shift in his expression from empty to something that could be awed before he went to work, reaching the belt around the man's waist and fastening the buckle with deft fingers. He tugged at the tunic much like the droid had tugged at him on their shuttle, and Ren was forced to stiffen up to prevent himself from being tugged over. Hux glanced up at the jewelry on his forehead, and decided it was probably more accurate to Ren’s character that it was slightly askew, angling to follow the line of his scar.

“Thats better.” He said when he was done.

“You said you could soften this.” said Ren, tilting his chin up slightly.

Hux studied the scar again. “I could. Would you like me to?”

“For today.”

“I don't suppose I could get you to wear some eyeliner as well?” asked Hux with a hint of a teasing tone, desperate for anything to break the tension in the room.  

“Possibly. Start with the scar.”

Hux swallowed, for what reason he couldn't pinpoint. “Of course.”

\---

“We must give them no indication that anything is wrong. The Arkian elite are like bloodhounds, or so I’ve been told, and they will know.”

Ren didn't reply, fiddling with something on his lightsaber hilt, engrossed in the weapon. The taxi was minutes away from the council meeting hall, a wide and surprisingly short building with a vaulted pyramidal roof that was almost entirely transparisteel besides the metal framework of interlocking geometric shapes. The day was very dark, darker than the night prior, and seemed to hold the promise of ill will towards anyone foolish enough to tempt its wrath.

With this backdrop, the city was more of a glimmering sea than ever, with lights reflecting off thousands of surfaces at every point in vertical space. It was hard to tell where individual buildings began and ended. They had left the controls of this taxi alone, otherwise it may have been hard to drive.

“Did you hear me? As you've noticed, Arkians are already shrewd and quite classist. They will be watching us every minute.”

“I understand, no need to continue trying to drive the point home. They will dislike us either way, you must simply convince them to dislike us less.” Ren didn't take his eyes off the weapon. He’d tried to get Hux to at least bring the blaster into the taxi, and he could hide it from prying eyes next to his saber, but Hux had refused. Of all the places in Nyx, the council building would be one of the safest, if in fact the reason for their presence was not all it seemed.

The taxi dropped them surprisingly on the street, and they swept in through the wide transparisteel doors. Inside was minimal, but elegant, as most things were in the city. The Law sector wasn’t too large, with people agreeing on issues more often than not, and the council building dominated the area with its unusual size. Inside was even more unusual, with a wall of several elevators and nothing else in the lobby. A man waited by one, hands held reservedly in front of his plain black jacket. “You’ve arrived for the council meeting, Sirs?”

“Yes,” said Hux, adjusting the straps on his wrists. In the open lobby, he felt exposed and far underdressed.

The man pressed the button, and the doors dinged open after a moment. The elevator, to their obvious confusion once they were securely inside, went down. When the doors opened again, they were in a hallway that seemed to go forever. Hux gave Ren a look, who looked back in equal confusion, eyebrow raised slightly, as they ventured out.

The hallway turned out to not go forever, but simply curve very subtly, with branching hallways that were well hidden in the illusion created by the spackled paint and gentle angles. They stumbled upon the first, when Ren noticed the slight shadow that gave away the opening in the wall. After several minutes of seeming to walk in a very wide circle, they came upon a placard mounted next to a door set a foot into the wall, out of immediate sight. In flowing Arkanian script, it said _Grand Meeting Hall, South Entrance._

“Finally,” muttered Ren, and pushed the door open, standing aside to let Hux in first.

Hux walked in, and stopped on instinct. He’d only seen rooms like this in the old holos and flimsiplast photos, images of the Old Republic senate on Coruscant, a tall and wide space that seemed to drill into the very earth to allow for over a thousand seats to fit with small desk-like balconies against the walls in a pattern of interlocking diamonds. The desks were all a dark marbled quartz, and there were white lights set under the edges of each to shine on the one below. The room was already mostly full, and buzzing with the light sound of people talking quietly.

A woman came to meet them, and Hux realized belatedly that it was Analia Infaret, one of the welcoming party from what seemed like many days ago. She was smiling slightly, seemingly recovered from her discomfort over Ren’s silence when they had arrived.

“Sirs,” she said, “Morning Bright. I can show you to your seats. You happen to be near me.”

“Thank you, Ms. Infaret.” replied Hux, and let her lead them to a lift and halfway up the wall, to a desk that seemed entirely random. They settled in, and Hux noticed they hadn't brought a second chair.

“Ah,” said Hux, and Analia paused on her way back to the lift. “I’m sorry, there's only one chair?”

“Normally there's only one person to a desk,” she explained, “we have no extra in the hall. I may be able to ask for another to be located? But once the meeting starts no one can enter or leave, and that is quite soon.”

“I’ll stand.” said Ren, already positioned in a stiff stance behind Hux, almost touching the wall.

“Lord Ren-” started Hux, but the look on Ren’s face was firm. “We’ll be fine.” he said to Analia. She looked between them and said “Alright, Sirs. The council should convene in a matter of minutes.”

“Thank you.” he said. Her genuine nature was something not often seen on Arkis, and Hux both appreciated and was slightly put-off by it. How she was living here was a mystery to him.

He settled himself in at the desk as the voice around him quieted to nothing, and then the meeting began.

\---

The feeling of inherent distrust had not left them once they left the Grand Hall, several hours after they had entered, and as Hux looked around he noticed part of the reason.

“Ren,” he said under his breath, “there are no windows.”

“Mm. We are also alone.”

Hux jerked his head to the side, glancing behind them. It was true. While they had left the room after the main body of Arkians, they were still followed out by several council members. Now, they seemed to be the only two, with not even the sound of clicking shoes to give away the presence of another person.

There was just enough room for them to walk side by side without touching shoulders, and Hux subtly fell back to do so. “It’s alright. I think we are really being over-reactive. That meeting was...informative.”

“But not in the right ways.”

Hux pursed his lips slightly, a maroon that matched the leather at his waist. “No. I expected to need to speak about our situation. It seemed that there were no problems to discuss.”

They paced down the hall briskly, keeping exactly in step in a way they had fallen into effortlessly upon the _Finalizer_. In those cases, however, they were often at odds. Currently they had never been more on the same side. The change was almost amusing, if Hux wasn’t so concerned about other matters.

“I’m getting the shuttle back, today.”

“It will have to wait until the night, Ren, no one will go get it during the sleep cycle.”

“I’ll make them get it.”

“Don’t be absurd. We have nowhere to be but the hotel until morning and it will give me time to go over the data we obtained.” He had been meaning to go over it when they had gotten back initially from their little foray, but he had been aching and tired and still flustered in all the moments he least expected it. He had fallen into bed after stripping off his robes with little thought and tossed around for nearly fifteen hours, getting up periodically to eat or check his messages. Nothing had come, but his sense of duty kept him waking at what he thought was the beginning of each new shift on the _Finalizer_.

“You don’t understand.” said Ren, looking across the line made by their shoulders to look Hux in the eyes. “There were some people, in that meeting, that weren’t just ignoring us. They were actively hiding something. I couldn’t get a good enough read on anyone without making myself obvious. There is something, I can feel it.”

“Oh, you can _feel_ it,” replied Hux with sarcasm that he couldn’t manage to entirely veil. He had simply wanted Ren to sympathize with his frankly unfounded anxiousness, not attempt to make it worse. “Until we have something more solid than that, I’m afraid we will have to stay on-planet. We have a job to do here.” The twisting in Hux’s gut did not subside. He didn’t have to read minds to know something had been off in that room. He just did not want to assume it was about them.

They were in sight of the elevators, a small dark rectangle peeking from behind the curve of the wall, when Hux saw it. At first he thought he may have gotten a piece of fuzz in his eye, and poked at it delicately. When it did not abate, but rather resolved into something more clear, he slowed his pace, and Ren slowed with another glance over. With effort, Hux managed to consolidated his thoughts into a message that Ren would have to be able to receive: _Danger ahead._

Ren’s hand went to his saber. They couldn’t stop now, they had already given themselves away with the sound of their shoes, two pairs clearly audible. Hux sped back up, locked onto the right wall.

In complete silence, the deep red line he had been watching shifted, moving in a sweeping arc towards them. Hux kicked off his heels and broke into a sprint, loose fabric flying out behind him. They were only a few meters away from the beam which Hux suddenly understood to be a laser sight, and as it came close to his chest he began to see the arm holding the blaster rifle. It had been hidden by the curve of the wall, in another inset doorway, and as he ran ahead he was beginning to see the person behind it inch by inch.

When the sight met skin he dodged for the right side wall, mentally yelling _Get down, sniper!_ He dimly heard the ignition of Ren’s lightsaber, the roar of adrenaline in his ears blocking out other noise and the rest of his focus almost entirely on the assassin. He reached them in the next second, crouching down into a sideways slide, his stockinged feet moving with just enough friction to keep him balanced. He grabbed the wrist holding the rifle steady in the front, and yanked it forward. A woman with long, dark braided hair and pupiless black eyes tumbled from the space. There was the deafening sound of laserfire and the area flashed blue as the bolt buried itself into the far wall. Hux turned as she fell, letting her fall past him. He kicked up a leg and brought his heel down hard on the back of her skull, and she slammed face-first into the marble, the rifle clattering metallically as it skittered across the floor.

She didn’t move, and breathing rapidly Hux bent down to pick up her weapon. He had no time to yell for Ren to stop as he reached them, and in a single fiery stroke he nearly separated her head from her body. He stood stock still afterwards, the same righteous fury from the night before flaring in his eyes.

“You moron! We could have interrogated her!” yelled Hux, blaster forgotten in his hand as he was forced to look at the horror Ren had spread at his feet. The skin, muscle, everything was neatly cauterized, and Hux imagined he could see a blackened bit of her vertebra. He saw Ren’s foot step over the body and looked up in time to catch a full view of Ren’s face as he was grabbed by the upper arms and pushed into the wall.  

Ren looked angry, furious, but also upset. He crashed his mouth onto Hux’s, and the renewed surge of adrenaline was enough to have Hux gasp. Ren took full advantage, pressing in with his tongue and before he could restart the gears of his mind he was gripping onto the fabric above Ren’s belt with both hands, embarrassingly aroused as their bodies pressed together. Ren was a solid mass, Hux was pleasantly sandwiched between him and the wall and he let out a deep, brief sound as Ren let go of the bruising grip on his arms, sliding them down to wrap securely around Hux’s waist, completely blocking him in.

 

 

It was the faint scent of charred flesh that snapped Hux back to the reality where they were within several feet of a corpse. His gripping hands flattened and he shoved the knight away, breaking them apart with an abruptness that left Ren’s mouth momentarily open.

“We have to go. Now. This didn’t happen.” Hux set off down the hallway, elevator clearly in sight and blessedly still shut. When he reached it Ren was at his heels and when the door shut behind them Hux let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. They didn’t move, the lobby button waiting to be pressed.

“Hux--” said Ren, reaching out. His face was still soft-looking, the makeup over his scar and the artfully smudged liner on his eyes blurring out the less attractive sharpness of his features into aristocratic arches.

“ _Stars,_ ” gasped Hux, and jabbed the button. They rocketed up and Hux grabbed Ren by the wrist he still held out, and half-dragged him back to the taxi. He pushed the darker man in first and clambered in after him, uncaring of the horrid wrinkling that would mar his outfit as he got to his knees on the seat, crowding Ren against the opposite door. He took Ren’s face in both hands, spreading his fingers across his cheeks to brush his earlobes with the tips of his nails, and kissed him again.

He had enough presence of mind to snap at the taxi to take them back to the hotel, and then his focus was back onto Ren as they lifted into the sky.

“You absolute idiot,” he said, and their mouths met when Ren lifted his back from the door, pulling Hux down with sheer physical magnetism to recline across the seats. It was with a throb between his legs that Hux realized that Ren was not touching him anywhere except for a hand on his waist that he could barely feel.

“Now you’re feeling reserved?” he asked, scraping his nails lightly across Ren’s cheeks. “After that?”

“I don't have to be.” replied Ren, and moved his hand down to palm Hux through his scant few layers of fabric.

Pleasure sparked through his gut immediately and he huffed a sharp breath. Ren didn't spend time teasing him, but patted Hux’s knee with his other hand to get him to lift up, snaking his hand under the robe to touch him properly.

It was shameful to admit, but he was most certainly already hard. He blamed it on the repeated spikes of adrenaline, razor sharp focus that bled into lust at provocation. Strong emotions other than contempt he did not experience often and Ren, for all his infuriating qualities, was clearly very willing to be an outlet. He wanted to ask why that was, what had changed in those eight months away, but was not willing to part them yet to ask. He may never want to ask. What did it matter? They would return to their stations, and this would be a silly tryst on a backwards planet.

He let his thoughts fall away as Ren took him in hand and started a steady pace. It was all he could do to keep his face mostly composed under Ren’s scrutinizing gaze, the leather of the man’s gloves just barely warm enough, and smooth in a way that few things were. It was a novel feeling that had Hux tilting his hips forward.

Ren watched him until Hux looked up from under his lashes, head tilted down and brows drawn in concentration. He couldn’t manage Ren looking at him like that, seeming to be attempting to piece him apart by cataloguing his expressions. That was not how this was going to be. It couldn't. Hux pulled a hand from his face and yanked down the zipper to Ren’s robe, and it slid away from the slippery underskirt that connected up into the button down tunic. Really, it looked a bit like a dress, and Hux smiled inwardly. None of that girly crap, he’d said.

It would take far more time than they had left in the car to open the tight rows of buttons, but thankfully the cramped space had forced Ren’s legs up enough to push the skirts over his knees. He pushed them up further impatiently, trying not to dislodge the nearly perfect grip on his cock. He dragged a hand up Ren’s length through his undergarments without pause, pleased to find it matched the rest of him. Ren dropped his head back onto the window and let his eyes slip shut.

There was only the sound of their breathing, punctuated with soft wordless exclamations when one of them moved just the right way. It was Ren that broke first, and Hux covered him with his underwear as he shuddered, hand losing momentum. When he recovered he set back to stroking Hux with renewed vigor and kissed him again as he came, swallowing up his short moan.

They had managed perfect timing, the car chiming as they neared the platform. Hux tucked himself away and resettled his robe, retreating from Ren’s side of the car quickly. He gave Ren a quick once-over, watching him rezip, and left the car as soon as it touched down.

\---

It was hard to avoid Ren in the suite, but he managed admirably through the next rest cycle. They moved around each other like oil and water, and Hux was glad that Ren made no attempts to talk about anything as he processed.

He wasn't going to process the taxi ride, no. That was already handled, explained away, but he needed a bit longer to figure out the assassination attempt.

That was what it was, of that he had no doubt. No sniper would be lurking around to kill any random council member. Now Hux was looking at occam's razor, there were too many details that added up to a worrying conclusion, someone was out to remove them. He had no clues yet as to why, however, and no matter which way he ran over the facts he could not unearth anything.

The sniper hadn't been wearing any insignia to connect them to a mercenary group, clad in a dark grey that blended best with the shadows. Their rifle had been a common brand, and besides being near-human Hux couldn't say where she came from. She could have been anyone, sent by anybody.

Despite the unknowns, he somehow felt more relaxed than he had in days. _Feeling_ as if something was wrong was worse than _knowing_ , and now that he was sure he could plan accordingly. He picked up the blaster pistol that he had set on the nightstand, running his fingers over the sleek metal and plastic, all a glossed black. While he had no doubts that he could manage without, at this point it was more sensible to keep it on him. He didn't have a holster for it, he would have to repurpose one of the more garish outfits from his mother's gifts to make something. Tragedy, but he would manage.

The issue was that they still shouldn't leave. There _was_ work to be done, but they should be prepared to retreat from the situation if things escalated. Assassin or not, it was still possible that they could fix the trade agreements, and they had to try. The good of the Order was paramount; they needed the trade to support the construction of their constantly growing fleet. They had needed quite a lot of diamond tipped tools to dig out the details of Starkiller Base. They may need that many again, or so Hux hoped. People tended to stop resisting when there was an overwhelming force opposing them. The failure of Starkiller was a horrible, absurd embarrassment, but it wasn't the failure of the Death Star, with its glaring weakness, and he was positive he could work out the kinks, make it perfect the second time around in a way the _second_ Death Star couldn't.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead and putting the blaster back down. That was if he had the chance. It wasn’t even if they managed to fix this little issue and made it back to the Order. It was if he was allowed to try something so enormous again. He felt an ache in his chest, the hole left behind where the overwhelming feeling of accomplishment had been when Starkiller was completed. The awe as it had fired. It was still an inspiring memory, but now it was tainted with his inability to protect that same wonder from the Resistance.

It didn’t matter. Doubts didn’t matter. He shoved the thoughts away.

“Ren,” he barked, yanking a ridiculous green garment from the closet, “bring your saber to the kitchen. I need it.”

\---

“Excuse me.”

The shuttle bay manager turned to view a pair of exquisitely dressed men with barely concealed anger on their faces.

“Yes, Sirs? What can I do for you?” He respectfully put down the datapad he had been fiddling on, straightening his shoulders. He was taller than either man, at a towering six foot six inches at least, but was half as attractive as just one of them. It wasn’t surprising he was stuck working in an underground spacecraft port, Arkians were quite judgemental of a person’s worth according to quality of phenotype.

“You can put in a request to bring back my shuttle. A black Theta-class with red insignia. It should be impossible to miss.”

“Of course Sir,” started the manager, picking the datapad back up, “but I must put in an express request, and I’ll require a reason. We are generally on a schedule, and we’ve already filled up for the next day.”

“A…” Hux trailed off, trying not to clench his jaw too tightly. “I left my datapad on the ship. I expected it to be here, therefore I left certain luggage aboard and it was unintentionally among them.” He lied with trained ease, thinking about the datapad currently nestled in the small case on his hip. Hux had allowed that both he and Ren wore cloaks from now on when they weren’t in plentiful company of Arkians. Ren was pleased, immediately snatching the deep black fabric that he’d draped over a chair and twirling it around and over his shoulders. Ren didn’t quite _need_ it per se, as it was almost better that he casually threaten everyone around him with a full view of his lightsaber, but Hux knew he felt safer in it, and with eyes everywhere it may be prudent for him to be less conspicuous. Hux wore his only cloak, as he obviously preferred his greatcoat, deep red and silky with a hood and edges that were lined with glimmering minute cuts of black diamond. When Ren had seen it he laughed, and Hux had snapped at him that it was yet another gift from his mother. Truthfully, it had been given to him when he was not quite as tall, and now the cloak fit him in the hood (which once had been far too large) but only fell to his knees. Hux had never been sure which part of the garment was intentional. But it was long and flowing enough to conceal the bag clipped to his belt and the blaster pistol nestled in the hollow of his lower back. This was not the first time his immaculate posture would be an asset, nor would it be the last.

The manager looked up at Hux from under his eyebrows, head still tilted down to the datapad with a look that said _“That’s why I’m going to change our schedule?”_

Hux sneered, the expression settling naturally on his face. He’d been smiling so much that it was a relief. “Unless you feel I may not need it for the next council meeting?”

The man’s face went from disparaging to embarrassed. He stuttered as he said “Oh, yes. It will be no problem. I simply need to find the ship. Could I get your name, Sir?”

“Brendol Hux the Second.” he said, disliking the feeling of saying his first name. It had been a long time since he had been anything but ‘Hux’, with or without his rank in front. He glanced to the man at his side but Ren was looking forward, watching the manager closely. He was wound tight as a spring, given the hunch of his shoulders, visible even despite the leather straps striping over them.

The man sat in a chair and tapped around on his pad, bringing up the register. The pad gave out a little beep. “I’m sorry, I don’t have that name.”

_“What?”_ barked Ren, but Hux held up a hand, ruby ring glinting on his middle finger.

“If a person has citizenship, would they be registered under that profile?” asked Hux.

“They could be, Sir.”

Hux almost laughed with the ridiculousness of the situation. He hadn’t had to register himself or Ren for this trip, he hadn’t even thought about it. The officer in Transport Services that had scheduled this trip was going to be put out an airlock.

“Try Brendol Aedan Hux.”

He chanced a look sideways again, and yes, Ren was looking at him, eyebrow raised, which lengthened his face in a slightly comical way. It was his damn fault they were down here in the first place, going on and on about getting the shuttle back. It didn’t matter that Hux may have agreed with him. _Shut up,_ thought Hux very hard, and the corner of Ren’s mouth angled up as well. Hux looked away.

“Yes, here it is. A Theta-class. I’ll put in the request now. We will give a message to your hotel room when it is available.”

“Thank you.” replied Hux and tried not to sweep too dramatically back to the elevator, Ren trailing behind him.

\---

“We are rightly screwed.” said Hux from the kitchen. He had his datapad propped against the wall on the counter, and was distracting himself from anxiousness by cutting up more fruit. He had to admit, the fruit was the best part of this trip, aside from getting to dress up Ren. It was hard not to think of it that way, as playing dress up. Normal people would never really wear clothes like this, Arkis was its own nasty little world with a nasty little idea of politics. It was actually strikingly close to the Senate of the Old Republic, another governmental and societal body that Hux detested. It was all looks, all presentation, and no work ever really got done, no lives really improved. At least the First Order never pretended. They did exactly what they said they would, with minimal fanfare.

Wrapped up in his own stormy thoughts, he barely heard Ren say, “How so?” from across the room. The Knight was sprawled along the couch, feet propped up against the back and head rolled over the arm. He had his own pad propped on his lap, flicking through some book. All Hux could see was very small text with hand inked illustrations.

“We have no comms.”

Ren tilted his head back over the arm, eyes wide open as he tried to look at Hux.

“That is quite a poor turn of events. Why?”

Hux ran a hand through his hair, knowing by the time they left he would have to restyle it anyways. Chunks of partly gelled together strands fell over his forehead. “Why do we have no comms or why are we screwed? The answer to the second should be apparent. However, I believe we have no comms because there's a signal jammer somewhere in this hotel.”

Ren swung his legs down and sat up in a fluid motion, then used his momentum to propel himself off the couch and towards the kitchen. He sidled up to Hux, looking across at the pad and then down at his own.

“It is possible there's just a storm blocking out the connection.”

“Yes,” conceded Hux, holding a paring knife in one hand as he picked up his pad with the other. “But you see, this city was built to function in spite of extreme environmental factors. Snowstorms are exceedingly common, you haven't been here long but out of an Arkian year, storms will be present around four hundred and seventy days out of five hundred and fifteen, and can be classified as severe over three hundred of those days. They would never get a message out if there weren't measures in place to manage the weather effects. So no, I don’t think it’s a storm. Besides,” Hux took the pad in both hands and used the knifeless hand to tap through several settings screens. “All First Order technology is set with anti-jam programming. If it fails, it will at least attempt to identify a source. And so.”

He angled the pad to Ren’s face, and Ren leaned in, shoulder brushing with Hux’s. On the screen was a short list, consisting of just one item in total. It read,

Signal detected: 34.6549.000.1

Distance: 0.8 kilometers

Efficiency: 90%

“That’s certainly convincing.” said Ren, tapping around on his own pad to reach the same screen.

“Yes. However-”

“If we can get out of the hotel, we may be able to get a signal.”

Hux gave him a look.

“What? I wasn't reading your mind, it was obvious. You don't need to be a tactical genius to see it.”

A chiming tone rang from the holoscreen set in the wall by the door. Ren went over and read the message.

“Kriff.”

“More bad news?”

Ren turned. “The shuttle bay. Say they won't be able to get our ship for another day, due to a storm.”

Hux snarled, turning back to his apples and chopping them with more force than necessary. “Nonsense. Where did they dock it, Ventos?”

“I doubt it. It’s almost assuredly being purposefully delayed.”

Hux was surprisingly pleased, though he kept a tight lid over that emotion lest it show on his face. Ren had spoken with authority, which meant he had taken the time to actually read the mission briefing notes. Ventos was the nearest city to Nyx, almost rivaling the capital in size despite the fact it was closer to the northern pole and had much more difficulty bracing their little oasis from brutal winds. His statement was obviously sarcasm, but the show of competency on Ren’s part was pleasant nonetheless.

“Of course it is. Again, Nyx was made to handle snowstorms. They simply think us stupid enough to believe otherwise. A major miscalculation on their part. The problem we must manage is how to leave the hotel inconspicuously. Unfortunately, another shopping trip is not a viable excuse, and we have nowhere else to be but heavily attended social events.” Hux emphasized the ‘s’ in social with a small flash of teeth, a feral approximation of the smile he’d been forcing himself to wear for days.

“We can figure something, I would assume, between the two of us.” Ren returned to Hux’s side, close enough that Hux could feel his body heat. He discreetly stepped away to place the knife in the wash, but could see out of the corner of his eye as Ren peeked over with a look that was open and almost crestfallen. What was that all about? He shook off the thought. They had important things to concern themselves over, Ren’s mercurial nature was not on the list.

“We can. Now eat some of this and get dressed, we have another event in three hours. Thankfully we don’t have to leave the hotel this time.” Hux pushed the bowl of fruit over the countertop and swirled away to his room, intent on some space between the two of them.


	6. Chapter 6

Well this party thing wasn't so terrible, Ren thought as he scanned his eyes over the room for the fifth time in ten minutes. He was tired and stressed in a way that was common yet alien. _Being_ those two things was regular, but _why_ was throwing him off kilter. With a sharp breath in he grabbed a small glass from the banquet table as he strode by, a clear liquid that likely had a high alcohol content. Ren had realized that these people had a tolerance for alcohol that was truly inhuman, but had a little debate going on in the back of his head as to the reason. Was it that they grew up drinking? Or was it something from their Arkanian genetics? Either way, he was not so well steeled, and he felt his scar stretch uncomfortably as he tossed the drink back and tried not to twist his features at the herby, burning taste.

He ran a finger over the smoothed skin on his face, and cast his mind in a small net over the people closest to him. Arkians really did have funny minds, and maybe that's why he had such difficulty reading Hux. Their minds were always running, picking apart every little thing. It wasn't necessarily that they were _smart_ , it was simply that they were unrelenting. Given that the General was a genius, it made the task that much more difficult.

Not to say he tried often. He had enough trouble keeping his own thoughts in order, and reading minds, at least surface thoughts and feelings, usually happened without any effort and was exhausting enough. Jumping onto the hamster wheel that was Hux’s mind was a sure way to a headache as thoughts would flood in, and it was very difficult to pick out anything in particular other than the overarching theme of his thoughts at the moment.

With his little net he cast shallowly, trying only to get a feel for the mood of the room, and the most pressing, forward thoughts of those minds. The thoughts were mostly banal, nitpicking outfits and focusing on inconsequential conversations. The mood was light, but that only served to make Ren more uncomfortable. Were they hiding knowledge of the real reason he and Hux were here? Were they entirely unaware, and simply acting as a herd of sheep, covering the scent of the wolves?

It didn't matter, in the end. Ren was going to drag them both out of this horrible fake place as soon as their shuttle got here, screw the trade agreements. He simply had to keep it together until then, watch the General’s (gorgeously clad) back, and try with a maximum of effort not to think about anything else. Anything else, especially certain kinds of else, were a distraction from the issue at hand.

Even from childhood, he had noticed that if he was thinking about something genuinely, he was more likely to pick up tidbits of it through the Force. It wasn't intentional, but his focus narrowed and plucked the information more easily from minds and the ambient presence of the Force. This was how, in the mass of tangled thoughts and feelings of his little net, he caught part of a very clear sentence.

_-a disgraceful exit, unlike anything I would have expected from Sir Hux, given his-_

Rens head snapped up, eyes combing through the sea of people to find Hux’s ginger hair and the delicate, lovely circlet that sat upon it. Of course, the one time in his life he needed to look for someone, the people were as tall or taller than himself. A ridiculous turn of events, the damn amazons. He saw nothing, jumping his sight over heads of golden yellow and pale blonde. No orange to be seen. He knew if he tried to find Hux with the force he would be in for a nasty time, so instead he pinpointed the other mind that had the audacity to admonish General Hux.

It was easy, she was still thinking about him. He narrowed in on a practically emaciated woman with white blonde hair to her lower back, parted into braids that were then braided together, accented with woven strands of gemstones. He pushed through the crowd with little concern towards their insulted expressions. It took all his effort not to grab the woman by the arm and spin her around, instead opting to spit a sharp “Ma’am.”

She turned, eyes widening at the sheer presence of Kylo Ren. He frankly towered over her, straightening from his customary slouch to spread his broad shoulders. She cleared her throat.

“Which way did General Hux go?” demanded Ren. He didn't give two bantha shits that Arkians didn't really respect his rank. The frustrating man was a General through and through. It was practically his name.

He felt her fear, and then felt the pride that swelled over it, pushing it down. Kylo pushed down an evil little grin. In some ways, Hux was more like his people than he would admit. She gave him an insulted look and said “How should I know? He went off toward the elevators five minutes ago.”

He left her, not bothering with any level of politeness. These people were disgusting, and he was done playing nice. Hux could be a diplomat all he wanted, but that wasn't Kylo’s job. Whatever his job was now. He thought that maybe as long as Hux was involved, he didn't mind so much being unsure. Pushing useless thoughts like that away, he entered the elevator and braced himself for the ride up.

\---

The suite was still, but a glow was steady under the closed bathroom door. Kylo entered quietly, almost reverently as he shut the door with both hands and walked across the room, boots nearly silent on the floor but not silent enough.

“I don't expect you to stay down there by yourself but leave me alone.”

Hux’s voice was sharp, but deep and a bit shaky through the dark wood. Kylo sidled up to the door after tossing off his shoes and floor-length cape, gratefully stretching his toes and propping them against the door as he leaned into it.

“What happened, Hux?”

“Stars, Ren, you really cannot follow directions.”

“Mm, not usually.” He pressed his forehead to the door and listened. He heard nothing for a moment, until a delicate little sound came through. A _pat-pat-pat-pat_ that got closer and farther away every few seconds. “Are you pacing?”

“That's unsettling. Just go.”

“You know as well as I do that's not going to happen.”

“For the love of-” There was the sound of wood hitting the wall in a violent clatter, then silence again. Kylo figured it was the towel disposal basket.

“Go _away Ren.”_

_“_ Tell me what’s wrong. This isn't your usual behavior.”

A laugh came through the door. “Usual? You don't know my behavior outside of the bridge or Snoke’s audience chamber. You had not even an inkling I was from all...this.” Kylo could imagine the four fingered distasteful handwave that accompanied the pause.

Kylo looked at the wood grain thoughtfully. “You are right. But I do know that the best General of the First Order wouldn’t regularly be found locked in a washroom. So, something is wrong.”

“Very clever.” replied Hux, tone flat. “Though ‘best’ is certainly not the case. Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I _mean?”_ Hux almost yelled, muffled as it was to Kylo’s ears. “I mean that I am the disgrace of a leader who allowed his greatest asset to implode and kill thousands of his men! I am the General that lost the strongest weapon of the war! I am the man that promised glory to his subordinates and delivered failure. Best is not a term I would use. That fact I still hold my rank is a miracle, or a cruel joke. I have not been set to a real task since Starkiller Base was destroyed. And now this…”

“This?” prompted Kylo, unsure of how he felt over the outburst but wanting to see it to the end.

“This!” Another crash as something shattered against the door. Kylo did not flinch, though his toes curled up to rest the knuckles almost in the door crack. “This farce! Sent home to lick my wounds and play nice. Away from my ship, my crew, my _life_. I am no councilman or senator or prettily dressed figurehead, Ren. I am a General. Either I shall do my sworn duty to win this war or I shall atrophy. And of course, now if that weren't enough, we were tricked here to be assassinated. For what? What have I done since Starkiller? Comb my hair too often?”

“You are a sum of your parts, Hux.”

“Ha!” He said the word loudly and sharply. “You would know all about that wouldn't you?”

Kylo grit his teeth. Hux had been inevitably briefed on the fact that Kylo Ren was once Ben Solo. He simply didn't understand what it meant.

“What I mean is,” he forced out through a swelling of anger that he tamped down with force, “is that it doesn't matter that you think you haven't done anything these few months, even though you certainly have. You are still the man that designed and fired the most powerful weapon the galaxy has ever seen. You are one of the youngest generals in the history of galactic war. You are brilliant, cunning-”

“ _Shut up Ren!”_

His scream pierced the room, and another crash sounded. It was more like a series of crashes very close together. Ren banged on the door once, he wasn't sure why but it felt right, and left the side of his fist pressed to the door.

“For kriff’s sake, leave me be. I don't need your _support_. I’ve dealt by myself this far, I will continue to do so. If I happen to blow up this hotel in the process of that dealing, so be it.” The pacing stopped.

Ren held his breath until the words sounded right in his head. “You can hate them, you know. You're allowed to feel this rage, you don't need to hide it. Least from me. I would kill them, down in that hall, if you asked me to. I’d do it if you didn't tell me not to.”

“We need them.” Hux sounded deeply tired, and closer to the door than he was before. It was a struggle not to let the Force push its way through the solid barrier in a way that he physically could not.

“Then let's leave. Let someone else handle this.”

“I know you haven't forgotten these orders are passed down by the Supreme Leader.”

“I do. But we can explain. Make a plan that will work more efficiently than this act you are putting on.”

Ren heard Hux sigh through the door and imagined his hands again, two fingertips pushed hard into his temples, now likely naked of their gentle golden trappings.

“We can't. You’re silly for even saying it. I was sent here to complete an objective and dammit I will do so. Just...not tonight.”

Ren stared at the door, somewhat disheartened. This planet was a disease, its people the vector. The intense cleanliness of the streets was a veneer, a highly polished cover over the filth of the citizens, so deeply invested in only themselves and how they were perceived. He didn't really care if they were geniuses, though he'd seen little evidence, or if they had more diamonds than anywhere else in the galaxy. He wanted to burn this city to the ground, melt the snow for miles under the heat of his saber. He stood for a moment, silent and contemplative.

“So I still can't kill them.”

Hux laughed shortly. “No. Believe me, Ren, I _want you to_.” He punctured the words with the sound of several harsh kicks to what was probably the wastebasket, judging by the jostled noise it made across the floor. Then he heard a hissed curse in what he assumed was Arkian. “Hurt yourself?”

A couple more curses. “Not in the way you think,” sighed Hux harshly, “I stepped back onto glass...how do you avoid injuring yourself in your tantrums? They're quite inconvenient.”

Ren shrugged, pauldrons jumping up comically. He had long since come to peace with his destructive tendencies, and the jab held no barbed edges.

“Hux, come out of the washroom.”

“Well, I can't now.” replied Hux with irritation akin to his normal mood.

“Unlock the door?”

“I _can't walk over there,_ are you deaf?”

Ren took that as permission to let himself in. He unlocked the door with the Force, a simple auto-occupancy lock, and let it swing inwards with a little push from his fist. It still felt odd, seeing doors that swung rather than slid aside. The room was frankly a mess, and he was vaguely impressed. Indeed there was glass littered across the floor in a concentration that started at the door and spread into the room, it looked to have once been the large frameless hand mirror that sat upon the counter. The cases that Hux had stacked so delicately and with such organization down the length of the countertop were on the floor, some with their contents spilling out from broken latches and others simply dented from the fall. A container of color powders had sprayed in an arc that landed up the side of the wall, a miniature explosion of color that was extremely out of place in the monotone room. A bottle of lotion dripped openly in the bath, letting up the scent of something floral.

Hux sat amid the destruction, his gracefully thin body perched on the toilet cover, leg curved up onto his knee as he picked shards of glass from his foot. Even in such a ridiculous position, he looked regal. Indeed he had shed his circlet, and also his cape, sleeves, and boots. They sat in a pile in the corner, very obviously unfolded. His hair was a riot, fingers and the gel having made it stick away from his scalp slightly, and his side part to fluff up and over impressively. His face was still carefully painted, and the juxtaposition was enough to force a chuckle from Ren.

“What?” Hux looked up sharply from his scrutinization of his foot. “What did you think I was doing in here?”

“Exactly this. You are quite talented.”

“Oh do shut up.” He went back to picking at his foot, four toes stretched out in a look that was vaguely catlike. Blood was smeared over his fingers but he appeared calm as small rivulets came together and dripped onto the black marble floor. Ren grinned despite himself and with a casual wave of his hand swept the glass on the floor aside and stepped in.

“Kind of you to move that.” said Hux, not looking up. “I’m fine now, you don't need to stay. I'll be out once I bandage this up.”

“Can you walk?”

“Of course, it will just be painful and I'll probably need to change the bandages quite oft-no.”

Ren had walked further into the room, sweeping towards Hux with his coattails flapping out behind him. He came across the room fast enough that Hux had no time to protest further as he bent down at the waist, looking elegant and proper, to slide his arms around the smaller man and lift him. It took almost no effort, though Hux could feel the shift of his muscles as he readjusted into a bridal carry. His foot, jostled suddenly, flung flecks of red upon the wall. Ren considered it as he turned back to the doorway. “Hm. An improvement actually.”

“This is absolutely an embarrassment Ren, put me down.” commanded Hux, at a loss for where to put his arms.

“You did say I am bad at following directions,” he quipped, then took Hux out of the ruined bathroom and into his bedroom. Hux looked plainly humiliated, red creeping up over his cheeks from his ears. Ren, upon reaching the low-set bed, dropped him.

Hux landed with a yelp in a tangle of sheets that Ren had never bothered to tidy. “You-” he was quieted soundly by Ren's lips, descending from above. He struggled vainly, the weight of the other man coming to settle over him, hands coming to grip at the lapels of his coat and darkening the fabric with blood. By the time he opened his eyes, the Knight was on hands and knees above him with a cocky smile on his face. “Absolute ass,” he finished, trying to look angry. “I'm still bleeding.”

“I know,” replied Ren, seeming to be entirely unconcerned about the blood seeping steadily into the sheets. “It's not bleeding much, is it?”

“I suppose not.”

“Then it can wait.”

“Wait for what!” cried Hux indignantly, knowing full well what. He harbored a notion he knew to be highly inaccurate: feign unawareness and he would be left alone. He hoped that Ren would get frustrated and stomp off, he couldn't bring himself to tell the man to just _go._ It had been a very long time since he'd been kissed, and the events of the days prior had sparked a desire for it that was unseemly and irresistible. He wasn't going to go asking for it, heavens no, but if Ren wanted to give, he would receive.

Ren gave a look that said he _knew_ , and descended again, getting less resistance. The purpose was twofold: one, it was a sure way to calm Hux down. Two, he very much wanted to. Something about Hux’s eyelids, powdered in a shimmery silver, and his mouth an unnatural but innocent shade of pink made Ren want to gather him up and not let go. Really, seeing Hux look alive in a way that he could not on the _Finalizer_ was a revelation, the shock of seeing the man as a warm blooded being rather than a corpse-ish looking commander. The lights on starships were far from flattering, and even back then Ren appreciated that Hux was a well-put-together man, if thin. He just didn't like him. He still wasn't sure if he did. When they returned to that massive warship, would he lose interest? Maybe, but maybe not. He had seen, this last week, a personality to the General that had been previously hidden under a stern face and sharply barked orders.

When he started to slide his hand down Hux’s side and over the front of his pants, searching for the closure, Hux pulled back. “What are you doing?”

“I would have thought that was obvious.” Ren found the clasp and unclipped it.

“You are not bloodying these pants, leave them on.”

“Mmmhm,” hummed Ren, ignoring the General almost entirely as he used a tiny bit of the Force to lift his hips and pull the sinfully soft fabrics down, undergarments and all. He left them just above Hux’s knees and took a moment to gaze as Hux’s cheeks took on a darker shade of red.

The ginger hairs were curly and a bright orange, almost uniformly shaded. He ghosted a hand through them, carefully not touching his skin and Hux sucked in a breath. Ren looked up, seeing him opening his mouth and used the Force to gently push up on his chin, and Hux let his mouth be closed. “For once, don't resist me. Let me do this.”

Hux sucked in his lower lip and let it pop back out, eyes flicking all over Ren’s face as if looking for something. “Can I have my legs freed at least?” With a little sigh he dropped his head back.

“No.” Ren sounded triumphantly haughty as he settled himself down quickly, propped up still on his elbows but his torso pinning down the legs below. He took one last appraising look at the half-hard cock in front of him. Slowly, he leaned down and slipped the head between his lips, lavishing his tongue over every millimeter of skin. Hux let out a contented little “Hmm,” flexing his thighs. Ren’s eyes fluttered closed as he inched his mouth down, testing different motions and listening for Hux’s response.

Hux wasn't loud by any means, his body language doing most of the talking. He tensed up different muscles as Ren moved in new ways, and finally he clenched his fists and reached for a pillow, pulling the overly stuffed thing over his face.

Ren spread his palms flat on Hux’s stomach, rubbing slowly to feel the velvet. He sped up, a twitch from Hux’s hips spurring him on. He felt his abdomen tighten as the man struggled to stay still, and with a quiet whine that barely escaped the pillow he came. Ren swallowed easily, then sat back on his knees, admiring his handiwork. With a touch of the Force he pulled the pillow away. Hux’s face had lost some of its color but his lips were still dark and he breathed deeply through his mouth. They sat in silence for several minutes, Ren admiring, Hux recovering.

Hux rolled his eyes open, looking down his nose. “Could I bandage my foot now?”

Ren quirked up one side of his mouth. “I’ve got it. But I'm not taking you to your room.”

Hux pulled in his eyebrows and considered the man sitting over his legs. What did he want? It was impossible to say, for having such an open face Ren was surprisingly good at hiding his intentions at times. What harm would there be in staying, it wasn't as if it was any worse than what he'd already allowed.

“Fine, but get my facial wipes as well. I'm not sleeping with this crap all over my face.”

“Of course, _Sir_.” replied Ren with only a trace of sarcasm. He got up and walked away before Hux could retort. He did anyways.

“Moron.”

\---

Hux woke to a weight against his side and a pinching feeling in his foot. He looked around blurrily, willing his eyes to focus as he blinked the sleep from them. Reaching an arm for the bedside table, he slapped the datapad there into wakefulness, and managed to read the time. Hour 7. Mother of moons he’d slept for _eight straight hours?_ He tried to roll towards the edge of the bed, but the weight stopped him.

Memories flooding back, he inched his head over to look at Kylo Ren, who was sleeping like the dead next to him, propped on his side and leaned into Hux with an arm slung across his pale hips. _Kriff_ , he’d slept next to Ren? He had been sure that after his foot was cleaned and bandaged, and after Ren had fallen asleep, he would be free to slink back into his own bed and try to pretend that he hadn’t had a horrible lapse in judgment.

Apparently not.

He lifted Ren’s arm gently from his torso, there was still a chance he could salvage his pride if not his sense of sanity. His hopes were dashed as Ren mumbled incoherently, pulled his arm out of Hux’s grasp, and used it to rub his eyes as he opened them.

Ren's eyes were a golden brown in the soft light streaming through the window. “Time’sit?”

It took Hux several seconds to de-garble Ren’s question. “Seven. We have nowhere we are needed, but I would like to use the bathroom.”

Ren rolled away from him, flopping onto his back and throwing the arm over his eyes. Hux took the opportunity to scramble away, wincing as the sole of his cut foot pressed into the floor. He really did need to relieve himself, and took the precious moments alone in the bathroom to look himself over. He didn’t _look_ any different, but he was sure somewhere along the way on this horrible mission he had lost his mind. It must be showing somewhere.

He feared this weakness that had so suddenly presented itself. What would it mean for his leadership ability? His focus? His plans? Ren seemed to be becoming...attached, and the mental admission had Hux convulse in a small shiver. He simply had to keep playing it by ear, and curb whatever was happening at the right time. He had other things to be thinking about.

Ren was still in bed when he returned, crossing his arms in the doorway. The dark man seemed to feel his presence, and dropped his head to the side to look at Hux. They simply looked at each other for a minute before Ren spoke.

“‘M hungry.”

Hux held back a snort. “Eloquent. Get up and get it then.”

“Comfy.”

“That’s rough isn’t it?” What was he doing? This all felt too domestic. “I need to change my bandage. Then I’ll be in my room, trying to figure out anything useful from that terabyte of data.” Data he had already combed through after they had returned from the council meeting, for hours. Nothing had come of it the first time, but Hux was a stubborn and resourceful man. There had to be something he could use to put the pieces together at least a tiny bit more. He turned back to the bathroom, and Ren didn’t bother him after Hux had returned to the giant bed in his own room, alone.

\---

Things had escalated.

Hux had contacted a few of the people he knew through his mother, council members and business owners, trying to get in contact with someone who could direct them to anyone they could discuss the agreements with. The First Order was in a very particular position with most of the planets they traded with. They had a political rapport, being a galactic force of change opposed to the New Republic, and most planets could not get away with having both. They were also a business partner, making contracts with private companies that happened to operate on those planets. This was the case on Arkis, and it was apparently necessary to jump through hoops to manage to contact someone of importance from both. Unfortunately, the whole council of Arkis was technically the political body, and many he spoke to claimed to not hold enough authority to meet with them. Others didn’t answer, their secretaries telling him regretfully that they were away. Nonsense, there was another council meeting coming up in only a few days. They had nowhere else to _be_. Still, it was starting to look like they would have to wait until the next meeting, focused on the Business sectors, to even begin getting anything done.

Hux’s hair was a riot when he had finally stomped out of his room, fluffed up to epic proportion from the number of times he had run his hand through it between holo calls. Ren was in the kitchen, chopping up some leafy item and dropping it into a bowl. When they arrived they had opted to call in room service for meals, but since the apparent danger had revealed itself, they had taken to slowly emptying the kitchen of edible materials. It would be just Hux’s luck to get shot while opening the door to take a bowl of soup.

“We have news,” he said, dropping down into a chair at the far corner of the countertop, “we will be expected to attend an event during the next night cycle. That was pretty much all I got from _three hours_ of calls. I hate to admit, but we are now worse off than we were before.”

“Why must we go?” asked Ren, and placed a smaller bowl in front of Hux. He eyed it, hungry but unwilling to bend to the undercurrent of domesticity.

He flipped through screens on his datapad, looking at the woefully stale inboxes. “Because it will be obvious if we don't. There is a small chance that the councilwoman throwing the party will actually meet with us privately if we put on a good show while there. Once invited to an event, unless you have a reason it's socially inappropriate not to attend. Obviously, we have no other plans.”

“Unfortunate.”

“Yes.”

The time leading up to the ball (there wasn't much else to call it, it was a purely social event) had been uneventful. There was no word on their shuttle, not that it was expected. They began to prepare three hours beforehand, and left with an hour to spare. They dressed darkly, Ren’s outfit had black chains that had diamonds widely spaced and dangling from his elbows, across his chest, and the belt of the coat that dropped around his calves and knees asymmetrically. He allowed the makeup again, and even let Hux set a black circlet on his head, with branching sides that raised like small antlers.

Hux dressed in his most subtle outfit yet, taking a page from Ren’s book and wearing all black, a simple robe adorned with minimal gems and geometrical patches of leather at his hips, shoulders, and down his spine. It fit him like a glove and the sharp cut of the shoulders reminded him of his uniform. It had no sleeves, and instead more of the gauzy fabric that Arkians seemed to live for cascaded from his shoulders and over his hands, slit down the underside to give his arms movement. He put on minimal jewelry, putting back on the two silver bracelets and leaving his head unadorned so his hair could sit naturally, parted extremely far to one side.

In fact, until the point where things had escalated, they were almost unnaturally uneventful. The sky through the taxi windows was almost soft, a whiter swirl of clouds and snow. Hux couldn't help but think of it as the calm before the storm. Nyx had an inherent ominousness, past the veneer of bright lights and sparkling halls. It didn't seem that people actually lived here, they merely existed in an emerald city-type limbo where nothing ever changed.

They were received by pair of valets, who looked relieved that they had come in a taxi. The ball was at another hotel, in a hall that was really two floors merged together with huge white load bearing pillars carved into heavily faceted shapes. The floor was a deep tan flecked with dark spots, and the walls glittered faintly with a grey that matched the floor.

The ball was already in swing, Hux and Ren had made pleasantries with those Hux considered key people, and they were trapped in conversation with the councilwoman who was throwing the event for thirty minutes. Ren seemed to have pulled out the stops, deigning to even speak at times when prompted. The lighting played well off the planes of his face, sharpening his cheekbones and making his dark hair shine with tones of black, red, and brown. His soft spoken deep voice kept Hux grounded as they rotated around the room, seeing face after pale face.

There were several long tables down the center of the room, splitting it into two equal spaces. As the night wore on, the food along the tables dwindled, and Hux used it as a casual way to keep time. Two hours, three, and Hux hid a yawn behind his hand. Ren watched him, maddeningly more awake than himself.

When the rumbling started, it started on the far side of the room, closest to the elevator. It was a deep sound, and sounded somewhat like a large transport shuttle warming up. Hux looked up from the table, where he was picking idly at a sliced loaf of yellowish bread. Nothing changed for a moment as the sound grew louder, heads turning like a wave towards the noise.

When it happened, it appeared to be in slow motion, Hux’s mind processing each detail as the situation quickly devolved.

Cracks began to split the floor and the rock began to bend outwards as the support frame bowed under some immense pressure. People standing in the space had looks of comical shock as they were lifted above their peers and thrown off balance. The rumbling crescendoed in a deafening rushing sound as the ground gave under the pressure and exploded upwards in a super heated plume. Hux didn't see much else, eyes closing of their own accord to protect them from the flash of infrared light. Screams erupted, and the sounds of people and rubble being thrown into the walls and other guests flooded his ears in a momentary sensory overload.

He heard rubble clattering around him and whizzing over his head as he eased his eyes open, half crouched to the floor. It was littered with debris, chunks of rock of various sizes everywhere, and reaching all the way to the wall, even embedded thirty feet behind him. Hux looked up to find Ren in front of him, hands outstretched as the last pieces hit an invisible barrier and fell around them in a neat arc.

He recovered quickly, lunging forward to grab at the pistol tucked under Ren’s coat. The service doors near the end of the tables burst open as the floor shook underneath them, and blaster fire filled the air, blue shots reflecting light onto the pillars.

“What the kriff is this?” shouted Hux, taking aim at the doors.

“They're coming from there.” Ren hollered back as the rumbling started again. “You shoot and I’ll block.”

Hux didn't need more direction, he began squeezing off shots with steady aim, the small weapon barely rocking his perfect stance. He dropped a few of the people pouring through the doors, but in the confusion it was difficult to hit them while also avoiding the guests. As the number of people entering increased, his attempts to be selective took less priority over taking down the people shooting in their direction.

“Are those _slaves_?” exclaimed Hux, seeing dull, poorly hemmed fabric drop to the ground with his latest shot.

He wouldn't know if Ren was going to respond, as another explosion rocked them. The hole in the floor widened as pieces began to fall in, dark smoke pluming out and spreading rapidly through the room. The crowd was thinning, whether through the increasing number of bodies littering the floor, or the guests escaping through other doorways, but the smoke added a new level of visual obscurity that made Hux’s aiming almost impossible.

He let loose several more shots, having no idea if they landed. “We have to retreat! We can't take them all and this floor could give any second.”

“You make a good point. Behind us, there's a door.” yelled Ren over his shoulder, blocking several shots with his saber. It flared dangerously.

“Go!” Hux turned, running in a crouch for the door. It hung open and he burst through, hearing blocked blaster shots and Ren coming through, and the door slammed behind them.

They were in an empty hallway, something that Hux was getting quite tired of. They ran forward, and a muffled explosion followed by loud sounds of destruction reached them as what he assumed was a pillar crumbled. The hallway ran with minimal doors, the diamond of glass in each showing only singular rooms. At the end of the hallway was another door. It was locked.

Hux didn't have to ask, as Ren went ahead of him and shoved his saber through the lock, dragging it down and melting the door open. He gave it a powerful kick, and they were met with a steep stairwell.

“Are you joking,” lamented Hux, but took the lead again. They thundered down the steps for what seemed like several minutes.

“Wait,” said Ren and stopped.

“ _What,_ Ren? This really isn't the time!” Hux continued down several more steps, thanking his sensibility for wearing flat shoes.

“We’re being followed.”

Hux stopped. Faintly, he could heard footsteps from the way they came. He heard nothing else.

“They could be survivors.”

“No. They have ill will. Keep going.”

“Obviously,” snapped Hux, and they continued down the stairs until hitting another door. It was steel, and dirty. Ren cut it open.

All of the tunnels of Arkis looked the same, it seemed. You saw one, you saw them all. It was dimly lit, and they raced down the curving lane, looking for a way out. The footsteps behind them were solid, if not coming closer. They’d lost too much ground, opening the doors and looking for turns.

Around a curve, Hux skidded to a stop. “No. Absolutely not.” Ahead was a bridge, made only of a carved line of rock. The walls and their faces reflected an orange glow from below. Ren came up behind, looking over the edge into a pool of lava. “Oh.”

“Yes, _oh_. We fight, and turn back.”

Ren seemed to consider it, then shook his head. “We can get across. It’s plenty wide.”

“ _No.”_

“Come on, General.” He stepped onto the bridge, and was buffeted by the heat, sweating immediately in his heavy coat.

“Dammit Ren!” Hux had no choice but to follow, edging forward to the middle. Then he had to stop, Ren still in front of him. He watched Ren bring his saber up.

“They’re coming down the other tunnel as well. Looks like we fight anyways.”

“Kriff!” Hux pulled out his power pack and checked the meter. “I’m almost out.”

“I’ll get you another.” Ren stepped forward as black clad men emerged from the far tunnel mouth. Hux turned the other way, bracing for the group that had been following then.

 

 

The blaster fire was immediate, shots cracking pieces of rock from the walls, and one of their assailants yelled in surprise as Ren Force grabbed his blaster from his hands and passed it behind him. Hux took it gratefully, dropping the pistol at his feet. It was simply poor timing that found their pursuers, more black robed men, reaching the tunnel mouth before Hux had gotten his grip on the weapon.

Hux yelled wordlessly as the shot hit him, burning into the meat of his arm and tossing him sideways. He began to fall, seeing Ren tossing the group of men back into each other with a swing of the Force. He turned and his eyes glowed in reflection with a red tint.

Hux’s feet left the bridge.

But he did not continue to fall.

Held in midair, Hux’s pain-tearing eyes focused on Ren, holding him with only the Force. It was ludicrous. It was brilliant. His breath left his chest.

“Take my hand!” yelled Ren, other hand reaching for him as Hux was slowly lifted towards him. He grabbed it and was hauled up. The men on both sides were almost back to their feet, confused and angry.

“ _Enough_.” growled Ren, still holding tight to Hux’s hand. Hux looked around for the blaster but did not find it, it had probably gone into the lava. Lovely. He scooped the mostly empty pistol back into his free hand and advanced with Ren, making it quickly across the bridge and onto the ledge before the tunnel. Ren brought his saber down on the men directly in their way, moving past and through the mouth before the others could react.

They moved several meters into the tunnel, then Ren turned back around. He let go of Hux’s hand, a bit of awe writing itself on Hux’s face as he watched Ren raise his arms, become very still, and seconds later a cracking sound echoed from the caves walls.

“Back up.” said Ren. They backed away slowly while the cracking continued, and suddenly the tunnel mouth collapsed. Through the dust, Hux saw Ren slump but he stayed standing. After a moment where his shoulders heaved, he turned and continued down the tunnel.

They rushed through the tunnels, taking any branch that seemed to head upwards. Bursting through a door after what felt like a half hour or more, they skidded into a service corridor. The plaques on the walls identified it as a condo, and they looked at each other with crazed excitement.

It was easy to find an elevator, Ren grabbing a random Arkian and forcing a location from her. Hux dripped pale blood freely onto rock floor and intricate rug alike, wincing as he tried not to jostle the wound around too much in their flight.  As they came to the shuttle port, they managed to catch view of a large group of armed men in the center of the space.

“How did they know-nevermind,” hissed Hux. It didn’t matter they they were here, only that they didn’t get in the way. They moved silently to the nearest shuttle, and lingered outside the boardwalk.

“Distract them,” whispered Hux.

_How?_ Ren said into his mind _I’m too drained. I couldn't even ruffle your sleeves with the Force._

Hux scowled at him and made a quick decision. He walked around the ship to the far side, still hidden, wound his uninjured arm back and chucked the pistol as far as he could. It slammed against the hull of a ship diagonal to them, and all heads turned to the sound and advanced.

Hux ran back, clutching at his elbow. “Now, then!” They scrambled to open the ship and Ren dropped himself into the single pilot's seat while Hux closed the lift behind them. He punched buttons, starting up the ship and not bothering to buckle in.

“Strap in Hux, I’m taking off. We can hyperjump in three minutes, as soon as we break through the atmosphere.”

“Hyperjump, what, Ren!” exclaimed Hux, throwing himself into a seat as the ion engines roared. They peeled out of the port, possibly hitting a few Arkians who were in the way. Hux couldn't be sure, and didn’t quite care. They rocketed straight up, and Hux braced against the small seat, safety straps crisscrossing his chest and arm flaring in pain.

He watched out of the luxury window as the lights of Nyx faded behind them, until they couldn't be seen through the perpetual storm. He looked at Ren, his head just visible behind the seat. Then he looked ahead, into the clear expanse of space.

\---

_Part 2 coming soon: In the Town of Dirt_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to JinxedAmbitions for beta-ing!!!  
> Thanks Fraxinus, for being my cheerleader while we both suffered through KBB.  
> Thanks to my new friends who pushed me on when I thought I just could not finish this, who told me with no prompting that my writing was worth something. It means more than you know. 
> 
> Hit me up on vmprsm.tumblr.com if you have any questions, or what to know more! I won't give away part 2 but I have soooo much detail that didn't make it into the fic.


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